Sword Mountain (24 page)

Now it towered above everything else in the banquet hall, ample and majestic upon a platter as big as a fountain, and every pair of eyes in the Castle of Sky flickered to it longingly. Not only because the cake itself would be heavenly—

“There is a wish coin baked into the cake,” Olga said in a hoarse whisper to Dandelion. “If your slice of cake has the coin, the king himself will grant you one wish! Anything, anything within his law and his power.”

Dandelion was open beaked.

“What would you wish for?” asked Olga.

“Me?” said Dandelion. “I … I'd wish for …” She was already so content it was hard to think of anything more. She had friends, like Cloud-wing and Olga here, and family, like Fleydur. She had a home. She could wish for Fleydur's music school to become permanent. However, she remembered that the Iron Nest also had a say in the matter, and Morgan couldn't grant that by himself. If she got the wish coin, she could ask for a chance to go to the Rockbottom Academy.

“Shut the curtains! It's time for the lighting!” Everybird quieted as various birds of rank were given the honor of lighting the many candles on the mountain.

Dandelion's eyes slowly drifted down the miniature mountain as, one by one, the candles glowed, and she found the familiar outlines of the cliff where her family's cave was. There was a candle there, too! She touched her own candle in her pocket, and it seemed to feel warm as well.

Morgan flew around the cake, spiraling to the very top. All the birds sucked in their breath with the king. He blew at the Sword Cliff candle. The flame merely flickered. Morgan frowned. He sucked in a deeper breath and puffed. In the middle he suddenly broke off, coughing painfully.

“Are you all right, Your Majesty?” asked the physician.

“Just the chill, just the chill,” insisted the king, finally puffing once more and blowing out the candle. He looked dubiously at the ninety-nine candles left. Then he raised his head and said with smile, “Come, let us do this together.”

Dandelion felt a glow in her heart. In this moment, the hundreds of eagles gathered here were like one huge family. They pressed up close to the cake, and all their breaths combined into one gust that put out the flames. The curtains were opened again. Tendrils of blue smoke curled toward the ceiling.

“Announcements, Your Majesty?” said Amicus, the secretary of the court.

“I declare,” said King Morgan, “I am starving!”

The eagles could already imagine the first bite of cake melting deliciously on the tongue.

Sigrid twitched nervously as she observed the distribution. The top layer went to the king. The rest of the cake was divided up and served according to rank, or birds received the slice of the mountain corresponding to where they actually lived.

Sigrid wanted the wish coin so much that her talons made indentations in the plate she clutched. She knew what she'd wish for; she'd already written it down on a slip of paper—“Let Forlath be the heir to the throne of Sword Mountain, and let Fleydur go elsewhere to spread his ideas.”

Sigrid grabbed a trident-sized fork and ate her slice voraciously, crumbs clinging to her feathers. But her piece was a generous portion. She picked up a carving knife and hacked the rest of her slice into crumbs, trying to find something solid. Nothing!

Oh, who has the coin?
thought Sigrid, desperate.
Is it that valley bird, Dandelion?

The only comfort was that Fleydur did not seem to have the coin either. The tradition was that the lucky bird would step forth sometime during the party to present a wish to the king. Many birds ate leisurely as they conversed, a nibble every few sentences.

The wait was driving Sigrid crazy.

 

Music makes a thousand hearts beat in rhythm together.

—
FROM THE
O
LD
S
CRIPTURE

C
an you believe it's over?”

“The last music lesson.”

“And then the performance.”

“And then …”

“Nothing. Nothing till tomorrow, when the Iron Nest votes.”

Dandelion listened to the eaglets around her whisper. They were all gathered early in the small rehearsal room for a brief meeting, a short final lesson, before mounting the stage and singing to the king.

“Do any of you have the wish coin?” asked Dandelion.

“We can wish something for the music school,” added Olga. Everybird shook their heads.

“The king can't make that kind of decision without the Iron Nest,” said Pudding.

“Oh, surely, surely we could wish something—to continue our music lessons, at least!” said Olga.

But since none of them had the coin, it didn't matter what they might have asked for.

When Fleydur entered, the room fell into silence. He was clutching a small box, and two armed guards of the king stuck their heads into the room before nodding and closing the door.

Pudding recognized the guards as those of the treasury. He pointed at the box. “Fleydur, is that …”

Fleydur opened the box and took out the Leasorn gem, whose light bathed the faces of the students in wavering ripples of indigo, violet, and lavender.

“The stone that belongs to no treasury, but to everybird,” he whispered.

He said to the Leasorn, “Sing my heart.” The gem responded with the cheery tune that Fleydur first taught them. Smiling, Fleydur extended the gem toward the eaglets.

Dandelion understood. “Sing my heart,” she said.

Olga followed suit. “Sing my heart.”

“And mine,” said Pudding, and all the eaglets chimed in. The tune of each eaglet built upon the rest, adding new harmonies.

As the final eaglet breathlessly whispered the magical words, they found themselves listening to a full-fledged symphony. The eaglets looked at one another, astonished.

Above the music, Fleydur spoke. “Tonight, children, represents how far we've come. This was unthinkable mere seasons ago. Just look at each of you; weren't you strangers to each other then? Restrained by rigid traditions, bound by the angle of your beaks. But now, with new eyes, new ears, you've discovered friends in those around you. You've found the eaglet in yourselves. Yes, music is the common thread that links us all. Together, you've grown; together, you've flourished. This is why I want to give music lessons and build a music school,” he said, and then, smiling, beckoned to them. “Come, my children, they're waiting for us!”

Stepping onto the stage, wing in wing, Fleydur and his students began the first happy birthday song to the king in the history of Sword Mountain.
The Castle of Sky was built for a chorus to sing here
, Dandelion thought. The large domed hall had been waiting for music to fill its space, and now the air shimmered with the opening notes.

The eagles of the audience leaned toward the music. Morgan listened, tears glistening in his eyes. Even the members of the Iron Nest took off their caps, although they and the more traditional eagles sat there somewhat awkwardly.

The birds of Sword Mountain could not stay silent for long. Eagles began to join in, and it didn't matter that they'd never sung before; it didn't matter that their voices were a little off-key.

When the song ended, the birds sat still, in a daze. The smattering of applause soon became full-fledged. “Thank you. That was just …” King Morgan shook his head as he placed a set of talons over his chest, unable to find the words to express his feelings. Fleydur led his students in a slow bow.

And then they sang the song that they, under Dandelion's direction, had written themselves.

Open your beaks

Sing a song

Open your hearts

From now on.

From the mountain peak

Let our voices grow;

Hear the answer

From valleys below.

In one another
,

Echoes of ourselves

Sisters and brothers

Beyond acorn shells
…

Dandelion watched as hundreds of eagles swayed to the singing. They were like a sea, rippling with waves of serene faces. Their music was responsible for this, she realized, awed and humbled. Her words, their own tune. She and the other eaglets singing along with her—
they
had created this happiness!