Read Online Priests of Ferris by Maurice Gee - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maurice Gee
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their gear in their packs they climbed into the down-lined nests Yellowclaw and the warrior birds had brought. They were used for carrying young before they could fly and were more like shopping bags than anything else, Susan thought. She made herself comfortable, with only her head peering out, and watched while the others climbed into theirs – Nick with a grin, Limpy nervously. The Birdman carrying Nick would need to be strong. He had grown a lot, and looked twice as heavy as Limpy. Dawn, light as an elf, would be no trouble.
The unladen Birdfolk sprang into the air and beat their way up easily, leaving the four with the nests labouring and creaking. But they won height gradually and set their heads at the distant south. Behind, the plains lay in a haze, like a yellow puddle, and the western hills and the tongue of forest beyond made strips of dark brown and dark green, and the sea stretched endlessly, silver and white. The land rose ahead, climbing in easy steps, with creeks wandering down, marked as though in snail-slime, and waterfalls brushed-in, and hollow lakes and black thorn groves. Far ahead the tip of the continent gleamed like a cloud.
The Birdfolk took turns carrying, and for two days they flew south. They beat into a wind off the mountains. At night Nick and Susan slept by the fire, and the Birdfolk came close, fluffing out their feathers. They huddled shoulder to shoulder like love-birds on a perch.
‘Tomorrow you will see Mount Nicholas,’ Silverwing said.
‘But we must stop before we get so far,’ Yellowclaw said. ‘We will set you down at the pass. Then you must go down, and climb the glacier on the other side. But through the pass it is Varg country.’
‘Jimmy said not to be scared of them.’
‘No man has ever made friends with a Varg,’ Yellowclaw said.
‘Don’t frighten them,’ Silverwing said. ‘The Terrible One wasn’t an ordinary man.’
Yellowclaw sighed and shook his head. He seemed to enjoy looking on the dark side. ‘It is the Prohibition,’ Silverwing whispered. ‘He is our mightiest flyer. He flies higher even than Wanderer flew, and sees the lands beyond our borders. But he can never fly there. It makes him melancholy.’
They slept, and rose, and went on their way towards the pass. The Birdfolk flew heavily through mist, with feathers damp, but in mid-morning the sky cleared, and the pass lay ahead, a V in hills where snow lay thin on the tops, like frosted glass. Across a valley clogged with bush was Mount Nicholas, a knuckle of ice, a giant fist clenched against the sky. It was squat rather than tall; and ugly, strong. It disappointed Nick at first, and then it pleased him. It was not a shape he would forget. A glacier ran from its eastern flank and curved into the bush, as sharp in its line as a scimitar.
One of the leading Birdfolk stumbled in its flight and managed to turn and glide down to the hillside above the pass. He lay spread like a fallen glider while the others tended him. The carrier Birdfolk landed.
‘We have reached the barrier,’ Yellowclaw said. ‘We can go no further.’ He looked through the V at Mount Nicholas. ‘How long must our punishment last? If I could see the land beyond, and fly south, south … ’ He gave an angry flap of his wings and turned away.
‘The Prohibition is in our minds,’ Silverwing said. ‘There is no barrier, yet we cannot fly. It is carved in stone on the wall of every Hall – “Unless ye be as Humble as the Worm …” It is our pride that locks us in our land.’
‘If I knew how then I would do it. I would be humble,’ Yellowclaw groaned.
Silverwing laughed at him. ‘You,’ she said. ‘Pride in your strength drips from your feathers. Stop complaining now. Say goodbye to these groundlings who go where we may not.’ She turned to Nick and Susan, Dawn and Limpy. ‘There is a creek in the pass. Follow it down. Soon it will meet the river where the glacier melts. We cannot see any further than that.
The unladen Birdfolk sprang into the air and beat their way up easily, leaving the four with the nests labouring and creaking. But they won height gradually and set their heads at the distant south. Behind, the plains lay in a haze, like a yellow puddle, and the western hills and the tongue of forest beyond made strips of dark brown and dark green, and the sea stretched endlessly, silver and white. The land rose ahead, climbing in easy steps, with creeks wandering down, marked as though in snail-slime, and waterfalls brushed-in, and hollow lakes and black thorn groves. Far ahead the tip of the continent gleamed like a cloud.
The Birdfolk took turns carrying, and for two days they flew south. They beat into a wind off the mountains. At night Nick and Susan slept by the fire, and the Birdfolk came close, fluffing out their feathers. They huddled shoulder to shoulder like love-birds on a perch.
‘Tomorrow you will see Mount Nicholas,’ Silverwing said.
‘But we must stop before we get so far,’ Yellowclaw said. ‘We will set you down at the pass. Then you must go down, and climb the glacier on the other side. But through the pass it is Varg country.’
‘Jimmy said not to be scared of them.’
‘No man has ever made friends with a Varg,’ Yellowclaw said.
‘Don’t frighten them,’ Silverwing said. ‘The Terrible One wasn’t an ordinary man.’
Yellowclaw sighed and shook his head. He seemed to enjoy looking on the dark side. ‘It is the Prohibition,’ Silverwing whispered. ‘He is our mightiest flyer. He flies higher even than Wanderer flew, and sees the lands beyond our borders. But he can never fly there. It makes him melancholy.’
They slept, and rose, and went on their way towards the pass. The Birdfolk flew heavily through mist, with feathers damp, but in mid-morning the sky cleared, and the pass lay ahead, a V in hills where snow lay thin on the tops, like frosted glass. Across a valley clogged with bush was Mount Nicholas, a knuckle of ice, a giant fist clenched against the sky. It was squat rather than tall; and ugly, strong. It disappointed Nick at first, and then it pleased him. It was not a shape he would forget. A glacier ran from its eastern flank and curved into the bush, as sharp in its line as a scimitar.
One of the leading Birdfolk stumbled in its flight and managed to turn and glide down to the hillside above the pass. He lay spread like a fallen glider while the others tended him. The carrier Birdfolk landed.
‘We have reached the barrier,’ Yellowclaw said. ‘We can go no further.’ He looked through the V at Mount Nicholas. ‘How long must our punishment last? If I could see the land beyond, and fly south, south … ’ He gave an angry flap of his wings and turned away.
‘The Prohibition is in our minds,’ Silverwing said. ‘There is no barrier, yet we cannot fly. It is carved in stone on the wall of every Hall – “Unless ye be as Humble as the Worm …” It is our pride that locks us in our land.’
‘If I knew how then I would do it. I would be humble,’ Yellowclaw groaned.
Silverwing laughed at him. ‘You,’ she said. ‘Pride in your strength drips from your feathers. Stop complaining now. Say goodbye to these groundlings who go where we may not.’ She turned to Nick and Susan, Dawn and Limpy. ‘There is a creek in the pass. Follow it down. Soon it will meet the river where the glacier melts. We cannot see any further than that.
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