The Ink & The Wing (Part Two)
For Franklin the ebony birds had become a bad omen. They were there each morning standing in small clusters near the lake’s shore. The farmer had stopped feeding them in hopes they would go away. He even fired his shotgun and hit several but the birds didn’t die. They only flailed about for a few moments before righting themselves. Nothing killed them. If Franklin or his wife approached the lake between sundown and sunrise, the birds would fly at their heads and try to remove their ears.
That the loss of the song birds coincided with the disappearance of his two sons indicated to Franklin that the blessings he had so enjoyed in his life had been revoked. It felt as if he were paying back the many good years with these weeks of misery and sorrow. And there was no way of knowing how long the darkness would last.
A full four weeks after Aaron and Ben’s disappearance, Franklin awoke during the predawn hours and dressed for the day. His intuition woke him just before the sun rose. Franklin began the short walk to his barns when a familiar sound hooked his ears. It seemed out of place to his ears now but there was no denying the short chirp of a cardinal.
“What?” Franklin stopped in his tracks. “It seems so long ago like a memory suddenly remembered. Is it true?”
The chirp grew louder quickly. As the first beams of sunlight brightened the fog over the lake, the cardinal Franklin heard flew downward from the eastern woods. It fluttered its wings as it landed and disbanded the black birds. The inky flock flew up and into the lake’s dense fog. Franklin watched in amazement as the cardinal turned toward him. It hopped near the front toe of the farmer’s boot and looked up.
A smile came over Franklin’s. “Can I interest you in some seed little one?”
************
Benedict sat in the darkness of his office waiting for the shutters to open. It was pleasing to him to watch the black bird work. He would doze all night and when the bird arrived, he would light a lamp. The light didn’t seem to bother the animal at all. The bird made no sound at all as it worked. Its beak moved quickly over the paper leaving a thin trail of perfect script.
There was a flap of wings outside Benedict’s window and the magistrate jerked his body awake. He turned to light the lamp. Once it was lit he turned back to his desk. The shuttered opened slowly but what came in was not the black bird. It was a small blue bird with its breast of orange and its wings and head marked with a radiant royal blue.
Benedict smiled. “Hello little one, have you come in your friend’s stead? What do you have to tell me that I may add another brick to the monument of my name?”
The blue bird descended to the parchment with a quick single hop. As the black birds did, it brought its beak down on the paper and scratched it over the surface. It did not leave a black trail but instead it crafted characters of gold. Its message was short and was out of the window within moments. Benedict rose from his chair. The gold wording did not mention a name or any specific crime. It promised him the chance to catch the world’s greatest thief at the edge of Pire Lake at dawn.
Benedict studied the words carefully. It bothered him that the message was so vague when the others were so specific. In the end, Benedict decided it really didn’t matter. That a magic bird was writing him messages was what was important. Tomorrow he would be ready to catch whoever this master thief might be.
************
Franklin had borrowed a boat from another farmer further south. He used it to search the Pire Lake for signs of his sons. It had been a fruitless search. There was nothing to be found but sunken logs, turtles, and waterfowl. Regardless, Franklin’s search spanned the lake several times over. The cardinal led Franklin to the boat exactly where the farmer had left it two days ago.
“Tell me my crimson friend, are you here to restore my joy and banish this curse that is taking my soul?”
The bird turned its head away and faced its dark beak toward the lake. It didn’t move again until Franklin stepped into the boat and began paddling. With the sun just half raised and fog as thick as he could remember, Franklin couldn’t see where he was going. The bird seemed to know. From its perch on the front edge of the boat, the bird would flutter its wings a bit and point a different direction. Franklin changed the boat’s course in accordance.
Other than the predictable lap of the lake water there were no sounds. Finally, Franklin’s ears picked up the whisper-like sound of wings. In the span of only seconds, the beating became louder and hazy black shapes began moving through the air around him. It was the black birds again. The fog partially masked their movements but Franklin could still sense them. Some small and others seemed too large to fly. He brought his paddle slowly out of the water. They would attack him soon and he had nothing else with which to fight.
Then the cardinal moved. It fluttered its wings then darted into the fog. Franklin lost sight of the crimson crest and feared he had been abandoned. He guardedly watched as the nearest black form circled closer. The wings were discernable now. Suddenly the cardinal shot through it. There was a quick sound of tearing and a low moan. Next, a splash as the circling bird fell into the water.
The other winged wraiths seemed to come for Franklin a bit faster now but none reached the farmer. Sometimes flying near enough to be clear ,other times a blur, the cardinal cut through each sending their bodies to the lake.
The fighting eased and Franklin continued paddling. Before long it was only him and the lapping of the lake again. The brave cardinal did not return. Franklin looked about in a confused state. He didn’t know where the cardinal was leading him or even what direction he was facing. He was probably near the middle of the lake but there was no way to be sure. Finally, the bow of the boat unexpectedly struck land. Franklin stepped onto shore and walked inland. There was no island in Pire Lake and it was impossible for him to have crossed the lake so quickly.
The farmer left his boat. He walked for a short distance before he began seeing human shapes emerging from the fog. Most were prostrate on the sandy ground but a few were sitting up. Franklin and ran up to the nearest. It was the girl Rachel.
************
The next morning Benedict was on the shore line with five of his deputies. They were all armed with revolvers and rope. Three boats rocked on the lake’s surface. It was still dark. Benedict expected the sunrise to reveal the master thief. The other men questioned him but he didn’t try to explain. The bird’s messages had never been wrong and until proven otherwise he would do whatever they instructed.
Each man sat near the shore staring blankly into the dense fog. Benedict wanted it quiet and so almost nothing was said for almost two hours. As the sunrise came about, a small bird sailed over Benedict’s head toward the lake. It disappeared a second later but its wake opened a crease in the fog. Looking on, Benedict finally saw something. It appeared to be a small boat just a short ways off the shoreline.
He stood which brought in his men’s attention. “There just out ahead of me. I see who we’re looking for.”
“Sir, I don’t see anything. Are you sure?”
The magistrate didn’t respond to the question. He didn’t know how much time he would have. Already it seemed as if his promised target was disappearing. “Just like I told you, two of you paddle northwest and two of you go southwest. It’s a small boat with a single occupant…arrest anyone you find on the lake. Stay quiet.”
A couple of the men exchanged confused looks but they complied. The men were as quiet as they could manage but the boats complained by creaking. Martin stepped into his boat with the youngest deputy, a lad named Martin, getting in just behind him. At Benedict’s signal, the young man took the long paddle and began pushing away from shore.
The thief’s outline darkened as he came back into view. Benedict controlled the speed of their boat by giving his deputy brief signals. Nothing was said and the paddle was moved with little splashing. It looked as if they would catch the thief but Benedict could not close the distance to the other boat. He took out his revolver then put it away. As sure as he was that this was the great thief he was promised, he couldn’t take a shot without at least seeing the other person’s face.
Then the thief’s boat unexpectedly bumped up onto shore. Benedict didn’t realize there was an island in Pire Lake and they couldn’t have crossed so quickly. He turned and looked at Martin. With widened eyes, the other simply shook his head. He was also surprised.
The light had grown stronger. The fog began absorbing much of the sunlight thinning it and spreading its illumination into an ivory glow. Benedict could see the tall man step out of his boat pulling his long handled oar with him. The end of the oar was not a widened portion of wood; what emerged from the water was the wide, curved blade of a reaper’s sythe.
Benedict broke the silence. “You there! Stop! My name is Benedict, chief magistrate of Foresburg! You are under arrest!”
The other didn’t stop or even turn to look at the men. He hoisted the sythe over one shoulder and slowly began marching onto the land. Birds completely black against the filtered sunlight began descending through the fog.
“Sir, we…we can’t keep going. This isn’t right! There’s no island in the lake! I don’t know where we are.”
Benedict leaped out of the boat into the knee deep water. With one hand he began pulling the boat onto shore with the other he removed his gun. “Do you have your revolver? Then take it out. We’re going after him.”
Martin took his gun out but didn’t stand. “Sir, please. We need to go ba..”
“Enough! Get out of the boat! He knows we’re here and we have to catch him before we lose him. I was promised this!”
Martin stepped out of the boat carefully as if the thick mud around his boots would suck him under. His revolver was held before him but it shook almost uncontrollably. Any shot he fired would be useless.
Both men walked onto the short scrub grass and tried to peer through the fog that surrounded them. It was still too dense to see properly. Benedict knew that the sun should have burnt the fog away by now. It must be close to midmorning.
A bird crossed Martin’s face. It was darker than shadow and flying faster than any arrow. The deputy cried out and went to his knees. He dropped his gun as he brought his hand up to his face. When Martin pulled it away there was blood. Another winged blur went across Martin’s back and the deputy went to the ground.
Benedict dipped to one knee and picked up Martin’s gun. The other man was whimpering now. Consumed by his cowardice; Martin was absolutely useless.
There was movement just ahead of Benedict; another black bird circled around to attack him. Benedict raised his gun but before he pulled the trigger the blue bird reappeared crashing through the other bird. There was a tear and low cry as the wraith fell to the ground.
“That’s good.” Benedict stood and began moving forward again. “My special friend has returned.”
The magistrate picked up his pace. Short grasses gave way the small shrubs and stunted trees. He was going slightly uphill and as he did the fog thinned. He caught up to the dark reaper quickly. The reaper had quit moving and was standing on a small rise facing Benedict. The reaper’s hood was down showing a face that looked sculpted from coal. There was no color either to hair or eyes, only blackness. The same was true for the hand gripping the sthye’s shaft.
Benedict didn’t pause long. He brought his revolver up and put a bullet into the left side of the reaper’s face. The head jerked backward and after the reaper straightened half of his face was shattered. In response, the reaper raised his weapon with the shaft held parallel to the ground. Five black birds of prey flew to the shaft from unseen perches. The reaper then brought his arm down and the large birds came for Benedict.
Faster than any blink the blue bird appeared again. Its dive took it through multiple birds; breaking them and sending the inky creatures to the ground. The evil birds seemed to explode this time with a curtain of black feathers obscuring Benedict’s view.
“No, I won’t lose him.” Benedict stepped through the slowly descending feathers both guns raised. The reaper was gone. He quickly turned and the feathers that were still hanging to air reformed into the reaper’s tall body. Benedict put four bullets into the reaper. This time there was no reaction.
************
Franklin had to touch Rachael before she responded. Her hair looked wet and tangled. When she looked at Franklin her eyes looked drowsy. She was thin as if she had been starved.
“Rachel, Rachel it’s me. I’m Aaron’s father Franklin. Where is he?”
The girl’s brow slowly knit and her eyes narrowed. She licked her lips then spoke in a slow voice. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I haven’t been able to move.” Her chains clinked as she lifted her wrist. The movement seemed like it pained her.
Franklin reached over and grabbed the rusty chain with both hands. He tried to pry it off of Rachel’s wrist but it didn’t give. He pulled at the chain and it also resisted him. Rachel looked away seemingly disinterested.
After pulling on the iron fastenings for a few minutes, Franklin finally stood up and called out in a harsh whisper. “Is anyone here free? I need help.”
The voice that responded was a familiar one. “Father? It’s me Ben. Is that you? Oh, please!”
Franklin’s heart lurched in his chest. Hope replaced all the feelings in his limbs as he moved toward the voice. Ben materialized from the fog bound by the same chains but sitting upright and apparently alert.
“Ben, are you alright?” Franklin took his son’s shoulders and nearly shook them. Then he hugged the boy unable to believe that he held his son again. “What’s happened? How long have you been here? Where is Aaron?”
“I don’t know how to answer your questions. I do know Aaron is somewhere behind me. But we’ve had to shout to hear each other. A man in dark robes brought us here and walks by often. He never says a word and the strangest part is his skin. It’s solid black almost like he’s been dipped in ink. Most of the others fell asleep soon after they arrived here and haven’t woken up. I spoke with Rachael for a while but she isn’t making a whole lot of sense.”
Ben held his arms out. “Father, can you get these chains off me?”
Franklin and Ben tried the restraints together but they didn’t give. The farmer looked around desperately for a rock or anything to smash the chain with when he heard a gun fire.
“Son, I don’t know how to free you but I’m not leaving. I’ll free you no matter what it takes.”
The cardinal reappeared literally dropping down from the canopy of fog around the two men. It landed on Ben’s first shackle which sprung open. Then it moved to the other wrist and that shackle opened as well. As father and son stood the bird flittered up to Franklin’s shoulder.
“Father, where did the cardinal come from? I don’t understand.”
“It has brought me here presumably to help you. I don’t know more.”
They reached another man sleeping on the ground only steps from Ben. The bird opened the shackles the second Franklin’s fingers touched the iron. Ben shook the stranger but he did not stir. They tried twice more to rouse the man but he would not wake. A second gunshot quickly followed by three more keep them moving.
Aaron was found and freed as well as Josie and two others who seemed not to be overcome with drowsiness. They left those who were asleep. Nothing they tried broke their slumber and the cardinal took no action. A man’s scream ended their effort to free others. Franklin began leading them back in the direction of his boat stopping one last time to free Rachael.
As Aaron hoisted Rachael to her feet, Franklin watched a tall form emerge from the fog near them. It carried a long sthye slung over one shoulder and the other arm looked as if it were dragging two bodies by the collar. It dropped the bodies and began coming for those Franklin had freed. It didn’t seem to take steps. Instead it seemed to glide over the ground. The cardinal flew off Franklin’s shoulder and sped directly into the reaper’s chest. The robes opened and seemed to swallow the bird. Then there was the agonizing sound of tearing. The reaper doubled over but it did not fall.
Franklin pulled himself out of his stupor and turned away. He sprinted back to the shoreline. The small company had already crowded into the boat. “Go! Push it away!”
He trudged through the water crawling into the boat along with the others. Aaron was sitting at the back trying to paddle away. The boat moved slowly into the fog. The shoreline dissolved and the heavy boat sat low on the lake by itself.
As they drifted toward shore, the fog lightened and the warm sunshine began burning the fog into wisps. The lake cleared and the sky looked as if it were midday.
************
Franklin’s song birds returned along with his rescued sons. Rachael, Josie, and the two others that were saved were returned to their families. It was difficult for those who had been taken to describe their abduction. They described time feeling slowed and haze the fog induced. Within weeks, nothing was said about the reaper or what happened to those still missing.
The appearance of the reaper and the songbirds that put an end to his gathering remained a mystery. For Franklin, it was death attempting to extend his cursed hand into the natural realm. The cardinal that turned the tide and destroyed death’s temporal power must have been something or someone holy. Now that the cursed fog no longer clung to the waters of Lake Pire, it no longer mattered
Benedict’s body was found drowned in the lake along with the young deputy. He was given a hero’s funeral and on his grave stands a wide granite slab noting his heritage and the work he did bringing the thieves of Foresburg under the rule of law.
As men before him, he could not bring justice to the greatest thief of history.
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