The Last Phoenix (14 page)

“I
don't want to talk about it,” Jason announced, hurrying on ahead of Michael, Jess, and Milly as they all made their way to Mr. Milton's house after school.

“Milly said that you sucked,” called Michael.

“I didn't!” Milly protested. “I just said you were…um…unlucky.”

“
And
that you sucked,” Michael persisted.

“You should have seen his goal, Michael,” said Milly, glaring at her brother. “It was amazing!”

“I was trying to pass to Paul,” muttered Jason through gritted teeth. He stopped and let the girls catch up. “I suppose those athletes at the third Olympic Games Fenella mentioned did so well with the herb because they were trained athletes to start off with and could use the extra power it gave them—they weren't rubbish like me. You were right, Jess—aren't you going to say you told me so?”

Jess looked tired and bad-tempered. “No. But I
could
say the name of every athlete who took part in the third
Olympics, what events they won, and how many of them had a bald spot right on top of their heads.” Her voice slowly began to rise. “Just as I can tell you the phoenix name for a hundred and fifty different shapes of cloud, which part of the sky tastes the sweetest, and how Fenella spotted the young Abraham Lincoln canoeing down the Sangamon River and dropped an apple into his boat to keep his strength up!”

Milly and Jason stared at her in alarm.

“She ate some of that phoenix ash,” explained Michael. “To get phoenix wisdom.”

“And now every time I think of
anything
I hear Fenella's memory of it in my head. It's driving me crazy!” Jess held up her hands. “I know, I know—I was stupid to do it, but like Jason with that herb, like Michael and his gold, I was looking for a magic fix to solve all my exam worries—a short cut to take me to a better place.” She snorted. “I should have known better!”

“How come you told Michael and not us?” Milly asked, hurt.

“I told Michael on the way to school. I was going to tell you later, but then when it didn't work out, I just felt…stupid. Completely stupid. I'm sorry.” Jess took a deep breath and set off again. “Now, come on, Fenella will be waiting for us.”

“Does she know you tasted the ash?” Jason asked, hurrying after her.

“I think so,” admitted Jess. “She kind of hinted at it yesterday. I've decided I'm going to say sorry when we see her.” She rubbed her forehead. “And then I'm going to ask if she knows how I can get rid of it!”

“At least we haven't seen that bloke again,” said Jason.

“He's probably been watching us like Skribble said, seen what a bunch of doofuses we all are, and gone off laughing,” Michael remarked.

They crossed the road and walked down Mr. Milton's drive. Mr. Milton himself was there beside a copse of trees, fussing over one of his statues. When he saw the children he started toward them.

“Here we go,” Michael muttered. “Be Kind to Loony Retirees Day is here again.”

“Michael, don't be horrible,” whispered Jess, but at the same time she had to suppress a grin.

“Goodness, children, back visiting already!” Mr. Milton glanced around at them. “I'm terribly impressed with your dedication. I would be very interested to see the fruits of all these hours you're spending in my workshop.”

“Oh, we're not very good,” said Milly hastily. “We've had to, er, throw away most of what we've done.”

“Then perhaps I can give you some hints and tips,” Mr.
Milton suggested in a kindly way. “Although, I'm afraid to say, the kiln is going to be taken out of action tomorrow. The men are coming to fix it.” He smiled hopefully. “However, that needn't mean you have to stay away from the house. I would be very happy to entertain you. Please do drop in any time you wish.”

“Um, yes, that sounds great,” said Jess awkwardly. “We'll tell Mum and maybe she can organize something.”

“Thank you again for letting us use your workshop,” Milly said. “Thanks for everything.”

“You are more than welcome, my dear.” Mr. Milton smiled. “Believe a lonely old man when he says—the pleasure and the benefit are mine.”

He hobbled away and they walked on to the workshop. “We'd better get the dewdrop this afternoon,” said Milly, feeling worried as she pushed open the door. “If the kiln is being turned off tomorrow then Fenella won't have anywhere and…” She trailed off and her hands flew to her mouth.
“Fenella?”

A feathered figure lay shivering on the workbench. But it was barely recognizable as the Fenella they knew. Her golden feathers had tarnished and were discolored to a mottled gray. Several had fallen out in a spiky pile beside her. Her beak was resting on the bench, her eyes were shut, and she seemed to be barely breathing.

“What's happened?” Milly gasped.

“The kiln door's closed,” Jess realized. “She must have been shut out.” Grabbing a towel from the bench, she tried the handle and the door readily opened. She flinched as a wave of heat burst out from inside.

“The egg's all right,” said Jason, peering inside.

“And so's her nest,” Jess noted, lifting some bits of newspaper from the gold-laced den of twigs tucked away behind the kiln.

“Poor Fenella,” Milly murmured.

Michael stroked the bird's head. It felt icy cold.

“Michael?” The phoenix's eyes fluttered open, a pale and watery blue. “Is that you, lovie?”

“Yes. Everything's okay.” Michael nodded encouragingly. “We're here now.”

“I went out for a few more sticks for the nest,” Fenella whispered. “The door of the kiln swung shut. I couldn't open it again, try as I might…” She gave a throaty cough. “Oh, just look at me.” Her eyes closed again. “Weaker than a one-legged sparrow. I've never felt like this before…”

“Let's get you back into the kiln where it's warm,” said Jess, placing her own hand on the phoenix's cold feathers.

“Wait!” Fenella's eyes fixed on Jess. “You tasted the ash of my nest, didn't you?”

Jess nodded awkwardly. “I'd been going to tell you. I…”

“Did it bring you happiness, pet?” Fenella asked. There was hopefulness, not accusation in the phoenix's cloudy eyes. “I hope it did. You've been so kind to an old bird, made me so happy…I only ever wanted the four of you to be happy in return.” A tear left a gleaming trail over her cold feathers. “Jason, I hope the herb helped you, love. And Milly, you must taste a little of the dewdrop if you find it. Help that dear singing voice of yours along a little.”

Milly wiped her nose, not trusting herself to speak.
It won't make any difference,
she thought, and right now it didn't seem to matter anyway.

“And Michael?” Fenella raised her head, looking about, confused. “Are you there?”

“I'm here,” he said, a lump in his throat as he put his fingers against one of her claws.

At his touch, Fenella smiled. “What is it
you'd
like? Should I spin you more gold? I would, you know, if you'd be happy…”

Michael felt tears burn his eyes and heard Milly sniff beside him. “Fenella…” he muttered.

“I know,” she whispered. “Happiness can be a hard thing to pin down.”

Jess smiled ruefully. “As hard as pinning down tomorrow's sunshine.”

“As I fade, pet, so will my voice in your head. I'll be back with a new voice soon, just you wait…and hopefully
with a fine, upstanding hatchling beside me, thanks to you and your brothers and sister.” She coughed again. “Thank you…for helping me.”

Jason cleared his throat. “Just hang in there, Fenella. We'll get you what you need.”

He put on the thick, insulated gloves from the workbench. Michael carefully lifted Fenella and placed her in Jason's hands. Jason put her inside the kiln beside her egg, and Jess gently closed the door.

“We'd better get after this dewdrop,” Milly said. “And fast!”

Michael sighed. “We don't even know which feather to use.”

“This one.” Jess selected a long, mottled feather from the spiky heap. “It's from her right wing. It'll get us there.”

“Where exactly
is
there, anyway?” Michael asked. “I've never heard of Mount Quamquangle.”

“It's a phoenix name,” Jess explained. “Really it's a remote glacier in Patagonia, in Argentina, also known as the Whispering Peak. They're about four hours behind us, and we need to get there at dawn, so we'll have to travel about seven hours into the past.”

Michael gave her a small smile. “Wow. So phoenix wisdom comes in handy for something.”

Jess nodded, reached into her bag and pulled out fleeces
for everyone. “It's going to be very wet and cold up there, so I brought us these.”

They all slipped on the extra layers of clothing.

“I'm going to wear my torn raincoat too for extra protection,” said Milly, pulling out the crumpled cream jacket from under the bench and slipping it on over the fleece.

“I brought two pipettes to collect the dewdrop,” Jason announced.

“Pipettes?” Milly echoed.

“From my chemistry set,” he explained, producing a tiny glass tube with a soft yellow rubber stopper on one end. “A pipette draws up liquid and stores it till you can transfer it to somewhere else.”

“Why two of them?” asked Michael.

“Because I'm useless, remember?” Jason smiled ruefully. “I broke my magnifying glass before—and there won't be a future me to help out on top of Mount Quamquangle if I break the pipette!”

Michael nodded. “Good thinking.”

“So let's go!” Jess held up the feather, and Michael, Milly, and Jason took hold of it too. “
Time of yore, be never gone
—take us to seven hours ago, on the summit of Mount Quamquangle!”

The now familiar sparkles of gold light shot through
Jess's vision as she felt herself begin to drift away, falling through space…

Then with a crunch of hard-packed snow, she arrived with the others—balanced precariously on a misty mountaintop. It was freezing cold and in seconds all four children were soaked through. The sky was the color of wet charcoal, just beginning to lighten with the first rays of dawn. The wind howled in lonely, heartbreaking notes almost like music. Rainclouds gusted past like ghosts, spurning the barren mountainside for kinder climes. Already Milly felt short of breath. She wished she was back in the warm, dry workshop.

“We can't see a thing,” Michael shouted over the gale. “And there's snow and ice everywhere. How are we going to find a dewdrop?”

Jason had the map out already, and tapped at a red “X” pulsating in the top right corner. “This way,” he said, pointing ahead of them.

“Be careful not to slip,” Jess warned.

“I'm not sure dew can even form at this kind of altitude,” said Jason, shivering as he moved surely over the frozen surface.

“You can bet your bum it's magic dew,” said Michael.

“Be careful, you two,” Jess called after him. “What we're looking for is up ahead.”

A large shadowy shape loomed up. “It's a yeti!” Michael yelled.

Milly shrieked.

“Actually it's not,” Jason added quickly. “It's…a statue.”

“Maybe we should tell Mr. Milton,” said Michael, acting cool again after his little outburst. “He could do a copy for us.”

Hugging herself for warmth, Milly slipped and slid closer. She couldn't help but gasp as the rainclouds seemed to roll away and reveal a strange but beautiful sculpture carved from black, windblown rock. It was a stone cascade of loops and spirals, like some spidery octopus with endless tentacles standing bigger than a man. Drops of moisture stood out proudly from the dark surface like beads of sweat.

“I don't like this,” Milly whispered. “Who built it?”

“An ancient tribe of summit dwellers,” Jess reported. “Fenella met with them once, so long ago…A few hundred years back she came looking for them again. But the people had all gone and only this statue was left.” She shrugged. “Anyway, this is where the dew formed. We need to find the very first drop.”

“Half of it's rain!” Michael protested, stamping his feet as he peered at the statue. “It's like picking out a special
piece of hay from a haystack.”

The wind blew stronger, but as it whipped through the loops and whorls in the huge stone statue, its accusing howl grew softer—to Milly's ears, almost a whisper. The same word, whispered over and over in a voice like the sea dragging slates across a shore.

“Beware…”

“What was that?” Milly demanded, staring all around. She could see Jess, Michael, Jason, and the statue clearly enough, but the shrouding mists hid all else from view. “It sounded like a voice…”

“They called it the whispering summit, way back when,” Jess reminded her. “It's just the wind.”

But again, the harsh whisper struck up in the stone.
“Beware eyes behind glass…”

“I think I heard something too,” said Michael.

“It
is
a voice,” Milly insisted, but Jess shushed her as the whispering started up again.

“Do not take the dewdrop…”

“Something wants us to leave,” said Jason uneasily.

“But we have to get the dewdrop first!” protested Milly. “We can't let Fenella down.”

“Quickly,” said Jess, walking around the statue. She could hear the phoenix wisdom in her mind:
Those dear old mountain peoples! I had such a chinwag with their
chief back in my earliest days. He would climb to the summit each day and taste the first dewdrop that formed on the magical shape of stone. Fancy! “Every day we see the world anew,” he told me. “And if we are ever to learn, then every day we must forget what we know and learn it afresh.” He was a dear man. He told me once, “I can always tell the true drop by the glimmer of gold within…”