Wind Whisperer - A Tale of Winds. Part 1

Author's note: please refer to the description below for general terms used in this realm.

Wind Whisperer - A Tale of Winds

Part One

Prologue

Though we said he was no collier, he knew Fire and how to tame its tongues, and that only needed a clear-understanding mind and knowledge… and knowledge told him that disturbed and inhomogeneous air currents enraged the flames while undisturbed bands of winds would tame and scare them away for the mere moments he needed to pass them. A small clearing, among the blazing trees, was before him and he plunged in and forward to fly in it in a tight circle. Then, this circle he flew started to slowly turn into a path along the lines of a vortex; like a hurricane with its eye in the clearing. He flapped his wings when there were no flames and stilled them when he passed the tongues of fire. Crowns of flames flew in his wake, encouraged by the turbulent air currents his wings left, yet they could not catch up with him as he gradually rose and, with a mighty screech, sliced his way out and high over the burning trees.


Introduction

Dear Guardian,

This is a tale that I had it in mind to write for quite some time now, and I believe it only right that the memory of a great soul be recorded upon these pages so that, with hope, his story might one day make a difference in another's soul. Perhaps only then would I feel that my effort upon these pages will not fade away in vain.

The soul I choose to write of is but one that lived among many. It is not from among the greatest, it is not of a knight that defies an evil most supreme, and it is not of one whose greatness made a difference in the lives of many in his time or after.

Life, though, is something like a tall fir tree; we land there to rest in one of its many hollows and take something in our hearts from it, or perhaps leave a part of ourselves there.

If your eyes, my dear reader, start to droop after such a dull introduction, then please bear with me for mere few moments more as I start my tale by introducing the one owl who was both my mentor and hero, before I leave you to venture out with him upon the wings of your imagination.


A green phantom

He was a Snowy that roamed the skies of the southern kingdoms on silent wing flutters. The knowledge of his existence, however, was one that was both sacred and forbidden to be revealed for any. Indeed, not many ever claimed to have met the mysteriously-cloaked owl and even those with whom he crossed path in his quest never again came across the gentle flier and was eventually forgotten from their memories. Yet, again, he shan't be forgotten from the pages of time.

Where was our owl hatched and how was he brought up is something I cannot reveal, though, for it remains a complete mystery to me; he might have thought that the tale of his life, compared to other legends, was of mere importance… or was it perhaps that the short time I have had with him afforded him not the luxury to tell, I cannot say.

I know. I spoke much already, but I make my exit here.

One night, not many hours after sunset, a solitary owl was roaming the skies of the Forest Kingdom of Silverveil. Many were intimidated by this flier but many more shunned him for he looked quite the derelict. To their eyes, he appeared as a cloud of moss shaped along the wings of an owl that was a mite bit smaller than a full-grown Great Grey.

At certain occasions, owls from the neighbouring kingdom of Ambala would wear cloaks of neatly-woven moss to sing for the rising moon, yet this cold night held no owl ceremony in its darkness and the owl's cloak seemed old and untended that patches occurred in it, revealing luminous-white feathers of a Snowy. Though the cloak appeared old and wind-beaten, the owl in it had young eyes that shown brightly with the spirit of youth and determination of a guardian of life. Of course, little did he care of what others thought of him; he had, after all, his own path to fly and that afforded him not the luxury of the kind feelings of friendship. Indeed, if that Snowy ever felt any twinge of loneliness, it never appeared to his eyes.

You must be burning by now to know why he made such a choice at life, if choice that can be called, but this I can answer. You see, my dear reader, this owl's existence was a legend, that bordered on the myth side, among owl-kind. Many centuries ago, or so legend tells, there existed a group of owls that rode the winds in mysterious ways. It was said of these seemingly-ordinary owls that they appeared in scenes of hatred, pain, and anguish, yet they were no bad omen for they were there to extend a wing of mercy to those tortured in their bodies, souls, or both. As far as the legend tells us, these owls held many names to them: the Owls of Winds, the Owls of Azure, and, most known as, Whisperers of Winds, for it was told that these owls felt the cries of pain and anguish in the very winds that carried their souls… the very winds that blessed them with peace in their gizzards to carry on their sacred quest.

As he flew, the owl suddenly banked and landed on a tree branch in the heavenly forest of Silverveil, his eyes shining with horror. Within him, he felt surrender and defeat alien to him that he shivered, and Snowies do not shiver in snowy blizzards, let alone a mere cold night. It was like a tremor of despair that ran through his gizzard to his heart and clenched them both in iron-clad talons, leaving him breathless. Such a state was not new to him; countless were the times he felt that terrible hold upon his gizzard in the very winds he flew with. Yet it would never lessen the horror of every time he felt the call whispered to his very soul.

Majestically, he power-flapped. He knew that the luxury of time was not his, yet he felt that his quarry was not far. That all he needed was to be swept up in the very chilling breeze that carried him, past the few barren leagues that lay between the forest kingdom of Silverveil and that of Ambala to the south… to the owl who had but surrendered to a certain death.


An owl in despair

High above the raging fires that swept over Ambala, an orange spec, reflecting the orange hue of the flames, circled the sky. Few noticed that one owl but fewer less gasped as they saw that spec diving into the flames. He was no collier; he had neither the knowledge of catching flying embers nor of holding them in his talons, yet he knew the winds he flew and that was all that he needed.

He had reached the forest and circled over a certain spot that pulled at him. Patience was a trait of his and he kept on circling until a Dead Drop; a mass of down-going cold air, formed. Downward he plunged, in the few moments he had before that window closed but under tree level, it was an entirely different matter.

Fire tongues blazed everywhere and he could not risk flapping his wings for fear of enraging them. Instead, he placed one battle-clawed foot on a branch that had yet to be consumed by fire and, slipping sideways, he allowed himself to perch upside down on that branch. Time was not in his favour and he had to plan his navigation towards the hollow that was not far in front of him and then out of the flames. He had perched there for but few moments when he gasped and his sharp sapphire eyes blinked wide open in shock at a pain that was not his; like a fresh surge of anguish that coursed through his gizzard, heart, and to the ends of his feather tips. At that moment, the orange flames around him were nothing compared to the blazes that erupted within the blue of his eyes.

Relaxing the hold of the foot that held him to the branch, he spread his wings wide to right himself right-side up and, folding them, he dived down to fly mere inches above the ground. He felt the heat of the countless embers on the forest's floor singing his plumage but he did not mind them as he flapped hard to raise himself to the hollow. Flames erupted at his flaps yet he sliced through them and right inside the hollow.

***

In a sycamore tree among the ancient trees of Ambala, an owl was crying silently. The entire northern region was set in flames, caused by a thunder storm, and the fires were set in such a rage that owls in neighbouring regions fled their hollows while brave few tried to save those who were caught unawares. Wafa was her name, a frail Snowy of not many winters. Orphaned at a young age, she lacked the proper care that might have helped her overcome her weak wings.

It is a known fault amongst us owls that those who are frail are shunned from society. Wafa's frail wings meant that she could not have chicks of her own for no vain Snowy male would take a mate that can neither hunt nor teach her chicks how to fly. Perhaps the greatest mistake is the continual dismissal of such weak owls and keeping them on the meanest of rations and fringes of societies. Wafa had a practical down-to-point disposition; she harboured no expectation of mating or recognition yet to be left in her hollow, neglected to burn to death, left a deep wound within her.

It was not many moments after Wafa gave in to the anguish to consume her that an explosion of sooty feathers filled her hollow. She barely had a moment to blink in confusion before she felt four sharp blades hold her at each wing and carry her out of the hollow. Outside, what carried her hovered in flight and she gasped as the full view hit her; the entire region was on fire but, again, she barely had moments to truly focus on anything before her, let alone what held her so painfully in its talons, when she was pulled sideways.

Though we said he was no collier, he knew Fire and how to tame its tongues, and that only needed a clear-understanding mind and knowledge… and knowledge told him that disturbed and inhomogeneous air currents enraged the flames while undisturbed bands of winds would tame and scare them away for the mere moments he needed to pass them. A small clearing, among the blazing trees, was before him and he plunged in and forward to fly in it in a tight circle. Then, this circle he flew started to slowly turn into a path along the lines of a vortex; like a hurricane with its eye in the clearing. He flapped his wings when there were no flames and stilled them when he passed the tongues of fire. Crowns of flames flew in his wake, encouraged by the turbulent air currents his wings left, yet they could not catch up with him as he gradually rose and, with a mighty screech, sliced his way out and high over the burning trees.

Wafa was lost in shock; the blazing forest fire was spinning before her eyes until night stars took their place. She experienced an odd sensation inside of her as she looked down at the forest that moved swiftly below her to realize that, for the first time in her life, she was air-born. She was starting to feel dizzy when a melodious voice spoke, "Are you alright, Owl?"

Wafa looked up at him. Either she was so shocked that she could not hold her consciousness any more, or it was the strange coldness that was stealing over her, but she could not answer as her sight dimmed and she knew no more.

His eyes blinked in confusion, at first, when her head drooped in a swoon, and then, they blinked in horror. He had planned to place this rather weak and fragile-looking female at a hollow far from the reach of fires, but something liquid and warm seeped through the metallic battle claws he wore to his talons. With apprehension, he looked down to see dark droplets of blood covering her snowy-white feathers; in his effort to escape, it seems, he unwittingly exerted pressure on her as he held her in his talons and the sharp blades of the ancient battle claws he wore pierced her skin. She was losing her life's blood and so, he had no other choice but to set course to a hollow he had across the River Hoole to the Forest Kingdom of Tyro.


Feeling upside down

Wafa opened her eyes and took a deep breath. The scent of the hollow she was in was sweet and refreshing, "So much unlike the smoke…"  She thought and then blinked; it was then that she realized that she was not in her hollow and so she muttered, "Why, this is such a sad state of a hollow but what am I doing here?"

Slowly, she turned her head to look around her. Dim memories assailed her thoughts: the fire in Ambala, everyone flying and leaving her, being lifted into the air, and a hint of something that glowed soft blue which she could not place. She tried to move but found her wings bandaged in tree leaves and moss but then, a strange whining sound caught her ear-slits and she listened, "… oh, great. My Da's cloak is ruined. How was I so careless?!!!"

Wafa was quite intrigued. The voice was quite melodious and pleasant so she hopped to the entrance and asked, "Excuse me…" but a strange scuffling sound and a small gasp cut across her words and when she poked her head out, no one was there. She looked down to find a batch of blackened moss thrown on the branch before the hollow. It smelled of soot and smoke and, when she held it in her talons, she exclaimed, "Is this supposed to be the cloak of a Green Owl from Ambala?!!"

She churred, the manner of laughter for owls, as she squinted through a patch in the roughly-woven moss but it was then that she noticed a set of talons holding to the branch. Lowering, and then swivelling, her head, she looked at the owl who was hanging upside down to the very branch on which she perched. She truly had no idea what to say to such a silly pose so she just spoke casually, "umm, hello there!"

There was a sigh and the melodious voice answered, "Hello…"

"Are you comfortable… there?" she asked.

"Well… yes, to a certain level…" he answered. She watched him drop, open his wings, to get the right-side up, and then flutter to perch not far from her at the end of the branch when she asked, "Will you be as kind as to tell me where I am?"

"Oh, yes!" he answered. "You are in the Forest Kingdom of Tyto"

Wafa then blinked and asked, "And what am I doing here, across the river from Home?"

Now, it was our owl's time to blink; he had expected her to be confused but she hardly appeared disoriented and so he answered, "Your Home in Ambala was on fire and…" but she cut across his words, "I know. I am not exactly light-headed. I asked why was I brought here to Tyto instead of dropping me anywhere else in Ambala?"

"You needed to be tended to." The owl answered with a tinge of pride in his voice, "I have accidentally injured you as I saved you from the fire. That's why your wings are bandaged and I…"

His words trailed away; she had her eyes narrowed at him in fury and she fumed, "so you brought me here across the River Hoole to heal me instead of dropping me at any of the countless healers in my country… because you were as clumsy and careless as to injure me?"

"Well… it sounds awful when you say it that way but I…" but again, she cut across him, "You what? Saved me? Are you bragging, mister? Because if you are, then you may as well save your breath; it's hardly original!"

That final remark was the one to tip him over the edge and lose his patience. He hopped forward from the shadows, under which he perched, and right before her and spoke in a rough manner, "Listen to me, lady! I have not battled my way through the blazes of Hagsmire to be thus insulted. I saved you from certain death but you are hardly my first nor shall you be my last and never have I awaited a well-deserved thank you but I will not…"

This time, however, he stopped on his own. She did not appear to be listening to any word he said yet she was gazing in stunned wonder at him. Feeling quite unnerved, he asked, "w-what?"
After a few, and rather long, moments, her answer came, "Blue…!"

As he hopped in her direction and started his speech in the manner that he thought would intimidate her, Wafa found herself gazing at her reflection in two large rings that were… blue; not the customary yellow or amber irises Snowies have within their eyes. When her answer came in that single word, she watched his eyes widen in shock for a moment before he tilted his body sideways to perch upside down, again, open his wings as he fell, and then glide away. It was such a swift movement that seemed as if he practiced it constantly. Wafa was quite astonished beyond speech… except for the two words that escaped her beak in a whisper, "Thank you".


Proper introductions

He was furious, but not at the owl he left perching before his hollow. He was furious at himself because never in his life did he feel so vulnerable and exposed. He closed his eyes tightly shut, as he flew, trying to dispel the penetrating stare that felt as if to have touched his very essence in search of a truth buried deep within. His eyes opened just in time to avoid hitting a tree and muttered to himself, "snap out of it, owl. She is but another charge… just another charge."

But he did not return to his hollow at sunrise and even spent half the day wandering around. He refused to let the thought cross his mind but, in truth, he did not want to place himself under the scrutiny of her penetrating eyes yet he could not leave her either after spending an entire day unconscious; much was still needed for her to fully-recover.

At twilight, he alighted on the branch of his hollow with a dead vole in his talons. He was about to fling it in and fly away in search of more food when he heard a delicate cough followed by the words, "Won't you come in?"

After a few moments, at which he went through every lame excuse he could come up with not to, he sighed and entered. He saw her standing next to the nest he set for her with a polite smile on her beak and seemed to be expecting something for she raised a brow tuft at him. With slight hesitation, he brought the vole to her but that only served to earn him another frown for he spoke no word and had not the intention to. After a few moments, she decided to break the silence, "Though it is your hollow, you appeared to me last night as one of elevated upbringing… should you not have introduced yourself by now to a lady in presence?"

The already-furious owl nearly exploded at her words; he did not intend to be instructed in manners and at his own hollow so he answered, none too kindly, "I am called by many names, lady, and I hardly believe knowing my name is of at most importance!"

His head was turned sideways to avoid direct eye contact. She did not try to shift so as to look into his but she uttered no other word and the silence stretched. He tried to bring her attention back to her food but she only chirped in consent. Our owl was not tactless nor did he lack proper manners yet his life was not spent socializing with other owls and that is where he failed for, no longer knowing what she required of him, he turned his head to look at her.

Wafa was just about to lose that battle of wills when he turned his head. She did not squint at him but she was sure now that she was not dreaming when she last looked at him; his eyes were the most unusual sapphire blue, so she hastily smiled, "I know that we did not start off properly and for that, allow me to apologize. It was highly improper of me to explode on you when I can't even start to imagine what you went through to reach me." She gave a slight chuckle and added, "A close inspection of your ruined and singed cloak was more than enough. My name is Wafa." And doing her best to perform a proper curtsey despite her weakness, she continued, "And I am most thankful for your effort in saving my life."

It dawned upon the owl, then, that the female before him was far more clever than what he imagined for, in her refined words and curtsey, she forced the course of their conversation out of his talons and right into hers. Slowly, he started to bow to her and spoke, "Do not, milady; my behaviour was atrocious. My name is… Yamin" and rising from his bow, he added, "at your service."

Straightening her posture as well, she continued with a chiding tone to her voice, "Fie on you, sir, for hiding such refined sensibilities… what are we, owls, if we do not show how proper we were raised?!"

Yamin was greatly bewildered; the owl before him seemed younger and much smaller than what her eloquent words suggested. Apparently, the trail of his thoughts appeared on his eyes as he looked at her for she added, "I hatched this way!"

"Excuse me?" he asked as he shook his head back to reality.

"I hatched in such a frail state. In Ambala, strange occurrences appear for owls at certain times when they hatch. I assure you I am much older than I look!"

"And… how old are you?"

But she smiled mischievously back at him and answered, "Now, now… you know that you can't ask a female of her true age but I am old enough to teach owlets to read and write."

Yamin could only guess that she was not younger than him but he did not press the matter and so turned to another, "Well, then. Why don't you finish your vole in your nest; you hardly seem to be able to stand." But when he expected her to argue with him, she turned and obediently ate the vole and even accepted his aid to get into her nest. Once in, he meant to reassure her, "This is your third night here and much more will you need before you are back on your wings."

Wafa blinked and raised her eyes to him, "Third? Is this not my second?"

She watched him shake his head and answer, "when I brought you here, you were unconscious and barely able to breath. My healing skills are not highly advanced but neither are they mediocre and I could not leave you but neither could I… take you to a healer and linger there, so…"

Wafa listened to every hesitating word he said. He appeared odd to her but, deep within, she knew that this owl with the kind blue eyes had his reasons for choosing to bring her here instead. She woke up from her trance when he asked, "Why didn't you leave your hollow when the fire erupted? All flew away in time except for you!"

"Oh, I can't fly!" she answered. "I am too frail to fly and I was not bothered much with to find a way to overcome the weakness of my wings."

Wafa frowned once again at him now for he smiled and answered back, "Then we will have to remedy that, won't we? Rest, teacher… your lessons start soon!"

With these words, he turned and flew out of the hollow. Wafa was deeply intrigued; never had she come across an owl that cared with such compassion that did not turn into pity over her frailty and, of course, she did not believe his words about mending her deficiency.

Little did she know that she came across the one owl that could.


To be continued in Part Two

"Flight Lessons"