Bad idea, Diaval realised, though his good sense had kicked in far too late.
He was already climbing into a cool current, flapping his wings against the sinking air, pushing himself through it until he reached another cliff face. Diaval fluttered into an alcove. He dug his claws into the stone while he caught his breath. Gosh this is high up. Granted he was a bird, used to playing above the ground but it was rare to scale these kind of loft heights. The mountains on the farthest edge of the Moor were enormous. He poor little chest struggled with the thinning air. These wings were better suited to fields.
Diaval crowed at the green smear of the Moor below. From here he could see the thick wall that his mistress had built around it, fencing them off from the world. He could also see the camp fires of the king's soldiers dotted all around, trapping them with the promise of iron. The castle, much further on, had black smoke rising from its depths leaving a permanent stain on the clouds. It smouldered like a primordial volcano, spewing filth at the world. It was true, the king had turned the palace into a furnace for his hate.
He hopped closer the edge and tilted his head up, one of his beady black eyes inspecting the cliff. He had a long way to go until he reached the top. He wondered if this was where the other fairies had retreated – if any of them were still left that might come down and help his mistress fight against the humans. Would they hear him out – would they even care? Diaval didn't know.
He kept flying higher.
Maleficent frowned when she found another of his nests empty. She'd been searching for her bird all day but the trusty ball of feathers was no where to be seen.
"Diaval!" she called in frustration, hissing at the air with a scowl on her eyes. Usually that drew him out of the swamps but not this time. "Where is that damn bird?"
She'd been searching for him for so long that she'd forgotten why she needed him. Maleficent folded her arms across her chest, ignoring the ever-present flutter of pain on her shoulder blades. It never went away – the pain of her missing wings. She couldn't move without being reminded of their loss. It was bad enough that she had to walk the world – why did it have to hurt as well? Sometimes she thought that she could feel her wings, trapped in their case inside the palace. Perhaps that's where the deep curl of loneliness came from in her soul.
"Diaval!" she called again, realising that she wanted him to tell her the stories from the palace again. She wanted to hear about her wings.
Maleficent was startled by a crunch of leaf litter. She spun around, frowning at the empty marsh until she lowered her gaze. At her feet, a young Aurora was playing in the dried up leaves – scrunching them in her tiny fists before throwing them over herself. She looked like one of those idiot wood fairies.
"Where did you come from?" Maleficent frowned at the child. Her wall of thorns was impenetrable. "Did you toddle all the way down – no – don't do that..." she was interrupted by the little girl tugging on the bottom of her dress.
Did the fairies have no sense? How could they let a child wander off like this when there was a war going on? There were soldiers and creatures lurking everywhere. "Diaval! What do I do?" She called to the sky.
The sky was quiet. Not even a flutter of wings.
Dammit, this was more up Diaval's street. He'd know exactly what to do with a lost child.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do with you..." Maleficent knelt down to the creature crawling about in the muck and leaves. The dark fairy wasn't even sure that she could pick the babbling thing up.
"Bird!" The young Aurora said, pointing to some of the feathers on the shoulders of Maleficent's cloak. Indeed, there were long, black feathers rippling in the warm breeze. Sometimes she wore this simply to vex Diaval.
"Uh – sort of..." Maleficent replied, looking nervously around for someone to help her.
It was not what Diaval had expected. After many hours and with the sun well past its half way point, he made it to the top of the mountain. There was snow beneath his bony feet. He left little V shaped tracks as he hopped around, inspecting the strange, frozen world. There was magic here – sewn through the ice crystals themselves. Time seemed to shimmer as though it were something fragile that could be broken.
"What kind of magic made this?" he chirped to himself.
"The same kind of magic that made you..." a deep voice purred onto the air. It was more like thunder than speech.
Diaval nearly shit the snow when a huge snow leopard unfolded itself from under a stony outcrop and pad toward him. Though its fur blended perfectly with the ice drifts, its blue eyes pieced the world. It was not a cat – not entirely. It was magic.
"What – prey – is a snack such as yourself doing so far away from home?" The snow leopard asked. It stood in front of a glacier whose violently blue ice teetered on the edge of a cliff, threatening to sheer off and crush everything below – which included Diaval.
The bird couldn't look away. He was like an ant caught in a honey trap. "I am no snack," Diaval replied bravely. "I come on behalf of a fairy – Queen of the Moor."
The snow leopard was still inclined to eat him. "There has not been royalty in the Moor for a thousand years," it replied. "The worlds of magic and men have blended too closely in the warmer climate. The magic folk here care nothing of it."
The pure bloods had retreated deep into the frozen world and had no wish to venture out.
Maleficent frowned at her bird.
"Diaval," she asked, "are you missing a feather?" More like half a dozen of them!
The bird said nothing, perched in a soft nest of leaves that he'd spent some time building.
"I think you are," Maleficent insisted, snapping her fingers.
Diaval appeared with a sigh. He clutched his arm, holding his hand over a nasty gash on his arm that looked suspiciously like a claw.
"Oh..." Maleficent whispered, when she saw the state he was in. "Did the farmer's cat get to you again?" she asked carefully. She knew that he had a long running disagreement with that creature. "I was wondering where you had gotten too for all that time."
Diaval nodded, saying nothing of the indifferent magical world that loomed above them. Now, when he looked at the mountains beyond the Moor, he felt their ice in the wind. They were alone in this and the King was inching closer with his army.
"Here – why don't you let me see – Diaval...?" He sidled away from her when she tried to touch his arm. "What's gotten into you?"
"It's just a scratch," he replied.