Endrex laughed.

  “Such a fool you are. You will be punished in the manner prescribed in our laws. But not until after the wedding of my son. He wishes for you to witness his marriage. That would be difficult for you to do blind. In the meantime, I can at least provide you with some company. Take him to join Tor.”

  Unyielding claws and beaks grasped his wings. The grim officers of the Black Wing partly carried and partly pulled Cawnor across the mesa to the arid, east-facing edge.

  There was a dirt-crusted crack in the stone that created an opening about three feet across at the widest point. Cawnor was shoved through the gap. Falling, he tried to fly and smacked one wing against the wall of the narrow shaft. He spun, spread his wings again and slowed somewhat, before hitting the rough bottom eight feet down.

  He was in a natural, narrow crevice ten feet long and four feet wide. The walls were hard clay and sandstone with harder minerals such as granite mixed in here and there.

  The light was poor, being only what filtered down from above. But as his eyes adjusted, he saw a grimy figure laying motionless in one corner.

  It was Tor.

  His friend was covered with dirt and dried blood, but Cawnor found only minor wounds.

  “Tor, can you hear me?”

  The older bird groaned and stirred. He opened his swollen eyes and saw Cawnor standing there. Tor smiled and slowly got to his feet.

  “I’m glad to see you’re unhurt,” he said, breathing hard with the effort of standing.

  “How are you? You look terrible.”

  “I look worse than I am. I tried to escape last night, but they were waiting for me. I lost a few feathers, got some scratches, but nothing serious. The same can’t be said for a few of the guards. Unfortunately, I think that they’ve doubled the number of officers watching me...us now.”

  “Doesn’t matter. We’re going to get out of here.”

  Even as he said the words, he was struck by the improbability of escape. Only his unwillingness to consign Rebecca to a life as Kraven’s mate and Wia’s prediction gave him any spark of hope.

  But hope wouldn’t get them out of that hole.

  They sat without speaking. Cawnor’s eyes were shut.

  Suddenly, they opened wide. He bobbed his head all around, like he was looking for something.

  “What is it?” Tor asked.

  “I felt a breeze.”

  “From above?”

  “It’s coming in from above, but it’s flowing out somewhere else. There has to be an opening that we can’t see.”

  His gaze rested on the floor, which was thick with powdery clay dust. Cawnor grasped a handful and threw it into the air, where it made a small cloud.

  “Look! It’s moving.”

  Cawnor followed the movement of the dust. It led him to a narrow crack, less than an inch wide, but at least two feet long.

  “The air is escaping here.”

  Tor came over and examined the spot.

  “The exterior of the mesa is on the other side of this wall,” he said. “So close, but it might as well be miles. There’s no way we can get through. I don’t even see any light.”

  “Maybe we can widen it.”

  “Cawnor, it’s solid rock.”

  “But mostly sandstone. It’s soft.”

  He scratched at the edge of the crack with his claws. A few grains fell away, but after only a few minutes his claws were worn to the quick. He switched to his beak. It worked a little better, but not by much.

  “There has got to be a way,” he said.

  “He spied some of the stones that littered the floor. Most were chunks of sandstone—useless for what he wanted. But there were pieces of purple granite too.

  Granite was hard, much harder than sandstone.

  Cawnor found a long, sharp granite rock. He picked it up in one talon.

  “Keep a watch on the top. Tell me if the guards look down.”

  He took a practice swipe at the wall. Cawnor dropped the piece of granite. He tried again. After a more passes, he dropped it a second time. But with a little more practice, he got the hang of it and soon had the crack noticeably wider.

  “Guards,” Tor said.

  Cawnor dropped his tool and stood still. The shadow of the guard blotted out much of the light. After a few long moments, the shadow receded as the guard moved away.

  “When they threw me down here, I couldn’t see anything until I had been in here for a few minutes,” Cawnor said. “It’s too bright up there and too dark down here. I bet the guards can’t see what we’re doing at all. That’s why they hardly even look.”

  He got back to work. When he grew tired Tor took over. Night fell, and they worked by the few pale rays of light from the nearly full moon that filtered into their cell. They worked until they were too exhausted to continue, and sleep finally took them.

  The next morning, Cawnor was terribly thirsty. Neither he nor Tor had eaten or drank anything for most of the day before. But they had no reason to think they would be allowed to come up to eat or drink today, so they continued to chip away at the wall best they could.

  They had no choice. By this time tomorrow, Rebecca would be mated to Kraven. And shortly after that, Tor and Cawnor would be blinded and crippled.

  Hours went by.

  It was afternoon. Cawnor rested while Tor worked. Hours passed. Finally, Tor, one of the strongest crows in the flock, stumbled against the wall, dropped the granite tool, and then slumped onto the floor.

  Cawnor rushed over and helped his friend sit up.

  “Stay with me. We’re almost there. It’s my turn. Rest.”

  The recess they had dug was two feet wide by two feet deep and just as tall. The crack itself widened the further they dug.

  Cawnor thought light was coming through the crack now. But he couldn’t be sure, because there were lights twinkling like stars in front of his eyes with every move he made. The edges of his vision grew dark.

  He felt queasy and feverish.

  Everything went black. Cawnor worked by touch.

  Was it night?

  Where was Tor?

  Why couldn’t he hear anything?

  Unconsciousness took him.

  eight

  With the Rain, Hope

  Something cool forced Cawnor back to consciousness. He smelled...rain?

  Rain!

  Another drop struck him, and he opened his eyes.

  Above, he could see the opening. The sky was nearly as dark as the rock, but he thought it might be just before dawn.

  A flash of lightning lit up the entrance to their prison. For a second, big, lazy drops of rain were frozen in the white light. Several seconds later came the distant rumble of thunder.

  To his left, Tor stirred.

  Cawnor stood with his face up and his mouth open. Laughing, Tor joined him.

  The rain came down in a torrent. Their cell became a quagmire.

  Now it was clear why Wia predicted Kraven and Rebecca would not be mated today. In such weather nothing would happen. The crows of the Mesa Flock hated to venture out into the rain. All things would be postponed until it had passed. Perhaps their guards had even retreated to the cover of the trees.

  Cawnor watched the water collect at his feet and flow toward the hole they had been digging.

  “Come on, let’s finish.” he said to Tor.

  Revitalized, they returned to their labor with renewed determination.

  Mid-afternoon. Cawnor and Tor dug together. The rain helped, washing away loose grains and larger pieces. Suddenly, a large hunk of rock crumbled and fell away. The hole was large enough for them to squeeze through.

  The rain continued unabated.

  “We’ll have to go out into it,” Cawnor said.

  Tor, being from the desert’s edge wasn’t enthusiastic. But they had little choice.

  “It’ll be dark in a few hours. We’ll go then.”

  “Then what?” Tor asked.

  Cawnor shrugged. “Try to find Rebecca. Fly west.”

  “And Mellori. She said she would come.”

  Cawnor nodded. “We should rest until then.”

  nine

  Flight in the Storm

  They waited until the sun had been down for a full hour. No one had come to their prison for the whole day. They might have been the only two left in the world.

  When it was dark enough, Cawnor put his head through the hole. He squeezed his shoulders and wings past the edges and was out. He looked carefully about. Nothing stirred. He perched on the tiniest of ledges five feet below their hole. Tor, a little larger than Cawnor, had some trouble getting out but eventually managed to free himself.

  “Where to?” Tor asked.

  Cawnor had no real plan other than to try and locate Rebecca and Mellori.

  “Let’s try their nests first,” he suggested. “Did you hear that?”

  “What? I just hear the rain.”

  “Below us, someone’s there.”

  “The Black Wing?”

  “I don’t think so. Come on.”

  Steeling themselves against the cold drops, they pushed off, gliding lower toward the ground. Halfway there, someone called their names from the right. They changed course. Four birds waited for them on the ground.

  “Rebecca!”

  Rebecca and Mellori, wet but smiling, waited under a pine with Wia. The fourth was a crow named Antsie. He was the last bird Cawnor expected to see. A skinny, rumpled crow, he spent most of his time talking to himself and shouting random bits of what he called poetry, shouting it to no one in particular, giving it up to the heavens, or the trees, or whatever. He was a crow to make Wia look almost ordinary.

  “Cawnor, are you hurt? You look a mess.”

  “I’m fine. We’re both fine. But what about you?”

  “I’m okay, but it won’t take Kraven long to miss me. He’s been pestering me since you were arrested. He calls several times a day, and he has me watched when he isn’t around. He was furious about the storm, demanded that his father have the ceremony anyway. We didn’t, of course.”

  “Of course. Umm, what’s Antsie doing here?”

  “He’s my friend,” said Wia. “My only one, before we became friends. He wants to see the ocean too. I told him to come, since we won’t be coming back.”

  “Never?” Mellori asked, like it was occurring to her for the first time.

  “No. Never.”

  Antsie had not moved since Tor and Cawnor had arrived, but now he tilted his head skyward, heedless of the rain, and crossed one wing in front of his chest.

  He began to recite. “To the ocean we go! To the primordial soup. Though rain and ranks beat us back, our spirits will never droop.

  “To the ocean we go! Carry on through the night. Hear the thunder clap, the lightning flash. Fight! Fight! Fight!”

  “Umm, Antsie,” said Cawnor.

  “To the ocean we go! High above the briny plain, six bright stars alight in the sky. We pierce the clouds and vanquish rain.”

  “To the ocean we go—“

  “Antsie!”

  The disheveled bird jumped and stared at Cawnor, bewildered.

  “That was lovely, but we need to leave.”

  “What? Oh yes. Yes, certainly.”

  Cawnor studied the group. To a one they were cold and miserable. The wind gusted. The rain, if anything, was getting stronger. But they were determined. Even Mellori, who loved to complain, was ready. Five pairs of eyes watched him, waiting for him. He felt the weight of leadership for the first time. They were all counting on him. Their safety was his responsibility. It wasn’t a job he would have chosen, but it was his, nonetheless.

  “We stay together. I’ll be in front. Tor, watch the rear. Everyone stay alert.”

  He decided not to go over the mesa, but led them south, along the edge of the mountains. He fought against the instinct to stay below the canopy for protection from the rain. He was worried about the Black Wing. They would be reluctant to come above the treetops. It would be harder for them to get at Cawnor’s group from below than above.

  Despite his precautions, they were attacked as soon as they reached the river.

  A bolt of lightning turned night into pallid day. The flash illuminated a dozen crows of the Wing with Kraven at their head. Rafe and Grall flew just behind him.

  Thunder split the air a moment later.

  Cawnor fought against panic. “Here they come! Stay together and we’ll get through this. Let’s go! Faster! Higher!”

  He pumped his wings harder and drove into the sheeting rain, climbing higher and higher. He turned his party west now, using the hint of the river below to guide him.

  They crossed the Mesa Flock’s boundary, and still the pursuit continued. He’d hoped, though it was a thin hope, that they might not pursue beyond the western border. But the Black Wing was used to being at the edge of the flock’s territory. The rules did not apply to them.

  And despite Cawnor leading his band ever higher, the Black Wing was nearly on them. If it had only been he and Tor, they might have already been away. But the others were slower, and each one of the pursuing officers was a strong flier.

  He glanced back and saw Tor snap at Rafe. Kraven and Grall were on him as well, poised to attack.

  Then it happened.

  Lightning flashed.

  Lightning flashed so close that Cawnor felt the heat and smelled ozone. The air crackled. The thunder came immediately, shoving Cawnor forward with deafening, irresistible force. He thought he was shouting, “Stay together! Stay together!” but he couldn’t hear his own voice. For a few seconds, he didn’t know if he was falling, flying, or what.

  And then it passed, like an exhausted wave, and he was gliding over unfamiliar ground, though he could still make out the river. He looked around and saw Rebecca—she looked terrified. Three crow lengths backs were Wia and Antsie. And just behind them was Tor, half being pushed along by Mellori.

  The Black Wing was gone.

  They were free for now.

  ten

  Two Moons

  They landed on an asphalt parking lot behind an immense, gray concrete building. A few cars sat dark and cold nearby, but no humans were close.

  Tor had been slightly stunned mid-air, but Mellori had seen and had gone to his aid. Now, after a short rest, he was recovered and telling everyone what he had witnessed.

  “The lightning tore right through the center of the Black Wing. I’m certain some of them were struck. Others were stunned by the shock of the thunderclap. At least half of them just fell from the sky. The rest broke off and went to their aid.”

  “Was Kraven struck?” Cawnor asked.

  “I don’t know. I was pretty woozy myself. I would have fallen too, if Mellori hadn’t caught me.”

  “Three of the Wing are dead. Kraven is not among them,” said Wia in a distant voice.

  No one asked how she knew. No one doubted that she was right.

  The rain lessened, becoming a fine mist.

  “We have to get going,” Cawnor told them. “We’re still too close to the mesa for comfort.”

  They set off, letting the river guide them. Steadily, they flew on. After a few hours, the rain gave way to a thick fog that hid the river from view.

  Cawnor could make out little on the ground, and the clouds shrouded the stars and moon. He tried his best to keep heading west.

  He had no idea how long they had been flying. His wings were leaden. The others had to be just as tired. They would have to stop soon.

  Around daybreak, they stopped and took shelter in a small clump of thorny bushes close to a noisy road. Other crows occupied a nearby field. Cawnor and his group did not approach. The crows were of another flock. It was safest to avoid them, at least until they were recovered. The rain continued to be a boon. It had left several small puddles close to the bushes in which they sheltered, so they had plenty to drink. And it had brought dozens of worms to the surface, so there was plenty of food readily available. After they ate their fill, they spent most of the day sleeping.

  By late afternoon they were refreshed. The day had not been so hot here as what they were used to on the mesa. They felt optimistic as they set out.

  When they climbed into the sky today, they could see the ocean, much closer than ever before.

  Night fell. Cawnor marveled at how well they were adapting to night-flying.

  An owl flew above them silently, pacing them. The owl’s moon shadow fell across Rebecca who veered to one side and alerted the others. Surprise lost, the owl turned up its beak and changed direction in search of easier prey.

  It became foggy again and Cawnor tried his best to keep their course straight. They went on like that, nearly blind, for hours.

  The fog thinned and then disappeared entirely. Below everything was dark and featureless. He could not make out the river, a tree, or even a building or man-house with their artificial lights.

  The moon found a hole in the clouds, and it seemed as if the world was upside-down.

  There were two moons, both bright and full, one above and one below where the ground should have been.

  After a dizzy moment, Cawnor noticed that the lower moon seemed to waver.

  Suddenly, he realized that he was seeing a reflection.

  They were flying over the ocean! They’d made it!

  eleven

  The Estuary

  Laughing and cawing, the six crows skimmed the black surface of the water until they came to the beach. There, they rested and splashed on the edge of the surf.

  Behind them, the sky was gray. Dawn was coming.

  Thirsty, Cawnor sipped from a lapping wave.

  He spat it out.

  “It’s salty!”

  From close-by came high pitched laughter. Turning, they saw a white bird with orange webbed feet. He was leaning against a driftwood log chortling at Cawnor’s sour expression.

 

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