Seabird and the Test of Tu'Ell

                                    Seabird and the Test of Tu’Ell
         
O’ia the Great Sky Bird lifts his head each morning to wake the world with the warmth of his bright eye.  He soars over the day, watching all the birds on land and sea.  He sees the swift flying Rh’oi and the lazy Y’ai, the soaring, broad winged T’kk and the screaming, hateful G’ll. 

He knows each egg that is laid and sees each fledgling that takes to air.  When O’ia grows tired, he turns his head to rest and the world cools under the pale gaze of his night eye.  He watches good mothers guard their nests, and sees the scurrying red-eyed R’ull hunt unprotected eggs.

O'ia knows all who fly, yet knows best the birds of the sea.  They live openly under his gaze singing songs about brave birds who did great deeds, and have often made O’ia smile.

Like all good fliers, O’ia has a mate.  A’io is her name, and her reach is vast, her temper terrible, and her waves big enough to pull down the strongest should he stray too far from land.  Yet her love is as broad as O’ia is tall, for she is Mother Sea and each day she sends swarms of tasty fish into the waiting beaks of her children.  Certain birds are her children because when the world was new one of them brought her a gift.  Mother Sea had never gotten such a thing before and had to be told what it was. 

“It is a gift,” the giver said.  “It is called a fish.” 

“Fish,” A’io tasted the new word and liked the splashy foam it made when spoken aloud.  “I accept your gift.”   

So A’io took the fish, and loved it so very much that she called all fish to live with her as her own.  The fish came, and made A’io happy and full.  She was so very very happy that she wanted to reward the giver’s generosity, so she called out:

“Little bird, little bird, I want to thank you for your gift.  Let me give you something in return!”

“But, A’io,” the little bird said, “I want nothing.”

A’io saw him hovering over her, his little mouth nearly as wide as his wings with the pure joy of riding the roiling air created by her swells and troughs.  She saw that he was not the strongest flier, nor the fastest, nor the prettiest, nor did he have the most beautiful song.  Yet of all the creatures she had ever known, it was this little bird who had given her a gift.  A gift that made her happy, and filled her belly to bursting, and now the bird’s joy filled her heart with love. 

“I will give you a gift in the same spirit in which you have gifted me,” A’io smiled.  “And here is my gift.” 

And with those words, A’io sent a great wave to rise over the little bird’s amazed head.  The wave curled around him, carried him down, deeper than he thought A’io could be, smothered him with bubbles, pressed him all around.  The bird beat his way upward, towards the dim remains of O’ai’s bright eye, and burst from the water in an explosion of wet feathers. 

He flew into the light, sped swiftly into flight, faster than he had ever gone.  He slowed and finally paused on a puff of air, his wings agape in wonder as he looked at himself.  Somehow, he had been made again. 

A’io had given him a pair of broad, fast wings, a quick beak, strong claws, and a stout heart to fly long distances without rest. 

“I will call you Seabird from this day forward,” she said.  “And allow your kind to soar over my waves and feast on my fish.”

Seabird soared into the world with his new wings.  He traveled high and long, caught strange, exotic tasting breezes that carried him to faraway places where creatures wild and mysterious craned their necks to watch as he soared overhead. 

His tongue touched air no bird had ever tasted, and sang his song of A’io to all the birds he could find.

One night, while sleeping on the wind, he woke to find the sky very dark, and a stranger hovering at his side.  The bird was of his kind, yet different. 

His face was stern, his beak turned toward the place where the Great Sky Bird’s cool night eye should have been.  Yet the sky was so dark it seemed lit only by star birds who lived many journeys away and by the gleam in the stranger’s eye.

“What guides you, Seabird?” the bird asked.  Seabird’s feathers startled as if struck by a stray gust, the question like a cool wind ruffling him from beak to claw.  He knew then that he had been guided on his journey by a new sensation. 

It had been a constant companion, had kept him from loneliness and fear, and allowed him to roam freely without ever being lost.  But there was no name for what he felt, so he looked to the strange bird, yearned for a new word.
         
“It is called Tu’Ell,” the bird said.  “Tu’Ell flows across the world.  Tu’Ell is knowing that who you are is who you are meant to be, and where you are is where you are meant to be.  Tu’Ell lifts us, guides us, and carries us home.  You have felt it, Seabird, it lives within you now, and now you will share it with all who fly.”

Seabird knew it was just as the bird sang, for he had felt this thing called Tu’Ell.

As Seabird and his strange companion drifted on the cool currents of the darkened world, the stranger spoke the way of U’hai and U’hu, how bands should be organized, and bid Seabird to teach others. 

When the night grew very long, Seabird looked for signs of O’ia’s bright eye over the water, yet the darkness remained as thick as it had been throughout the night.  Turning his head, Seabird found the strange flier wearing an odd smile.

“Why do you smile like that, strange one?  It is time for O’ia to wake, and warm the world with the light of his bright eye,” Seabird said.  “Yet I don’t see him, the night remains cool and dark, and I fear for a world without the warmth of the Great Sky Bird’s gaze.”

The strange bird nodded.  “You are right, Seabird,” he said.  “It is time.”

With that the stranger flapped his wings, a great and powerful burst that sent him hurtling upwards faster than Seabird could possibly follow.  Before he shot out of sight, he turned his head for the first time.
         
Seabird gasped as O’ia’s bright eye rose above the horizon that very same instant, and Seabird knew that the stranger's words were true, for the Great Sky Bird had risen.

With Tu’Ell in him, Seabird traveled across the face of the world.  He passed without harm through mist and cloud, sped away from the talons of Ru’ikk, and outraced Ku’kik the destroyer’s deadly claws when the sea raged with slashing storms.

Seabird taught all birds the law, and spent time among each of their kind until they had learned Tu’Ell.  He was called many things while among the myriad birds of the world.  He was called Lawmaker by the lazy Y'ai and Swift One by the red-winged Rh'oi.  To the soaring T'kk he is Giver, and the fat faced U'oit call him Rule Singer.  He spent at least a season with each of them, and among each of them he was known.

After many many adventures he went back to his band, and flew over that long, rocky coastline until he came upon those he had left when he went to give A’io her gift of fish. 

He found them without leadership and struggling to survive, so Seabird sang the law as told by the stranger.  He taught them how the band should be organized in two great circles, and that the head of the band shall be U'hai and his First and Second called U'hu. 

He said that each male bird shall be First or Second to another so that all birds have a place in the band.  Elders shall have a special place at council, and all fliers shall sit at council so the law may be sung and Tu'Ell kept pure.

The band heard his song and felt a stirring they had never known.  Seabird said, "It is Tu'Ell, it gives us peace and purpose and helps us thrive.  Heed well Tu'Ell, and keep it sacred, for it will lift us, guide us, and carry us home."

When they heard the word Tu'Ell, they knew that Seabird had been sent by O'ia to speak the law, for some had felt the stirring of it in them, and now all knew its name. 

So they sang it that long-ago day, and so the Children of A'io sing it still.

But part of the sung was not sung, for Seabird kept that part to himself.  Before turning his head to light the world, the strange bird had told Seabird that his Tu’Ell would one day be tested, and on that day he would both live and die.
         
Unsure what the stranger meant, Seabird left it out of his song about the strange journey across the night.  His secret unsung, Seabird served his band as U'hai, and chose as First U'hu his brother K'yu. 

Although fledged from the same nest, K'yu had doubted that A'io would accept the gift of fish, and had mocked Seabird for being a fool.  No one was more surprised when Mother Sea not only accepted the gift, but transformed Seabird and set him sailing across the world with a new song. 

From that day on, K'yu’s eyes darkened when he looked at his brother, and turned away when the band sang of how Seabird was blessed among birds.  He often grumbled when Seabird spoke the law, and was heard arguing with him after the band had gathered to rest. 
         
But Seabird loved his brother and would not hear words against him, no matter what mischief he made.  But there was a shadow in K’yu, a lengthening darkness that spread across the band.

It burst from him on the day that Seabird saw a beautiful female called L'aie and felt it Tu'Ell that they make a place for themselves in the center of circles, and have the band settle around them as they raised their chicks. 
         
K'yu had declared her his own, yet the two had not pledged since L'aie would not fly with K'yu and the female has the final choice of mate.  But because K'yu had declared his love, no others came near the young female for fear of his wrath. 
         
She spent many days alone as others paired, seemingly doomed to be without mate or chick until Seabird went to her side while K’yu was away.
         
"If you will not fly with K’yu, L’aie, perhaps you will fly with me," Seabird asked.  "For I would have you as my mate."  She came close, rubbed her body against his. 

"I will," she said, and Seabird and L'aie pledged to fly as one, and flew happily across the sky under both bright eye and night so both O’ia’s eyes could see that they were mated. 

Then K'yu returned to the band, and saw what had been done.     
         
He flew into a rage, demanded that Seabird call council.  With the band gathered, he accused his brother of breaking Tu'Ell by stealing another's mate.

"She is not your mate, my brother," Seabird said.  "She is mine."

"She's not!" K'yu screamed and charged at Seabird with claw raised to kill.  The band gasped, but Seabird was unafraid.  His stern face stopped his brother’s charge and his fierce stare turned K’yu’s eye to himself. 
         
K'yu looked at his outstretched claw in shame, and knew at once he had done something very very wrong.

"K'yu, you have violated Tu'Ell," Seabird said.  "I am U'hai, and as much as I love you, I must do what must be done."

Seabird's strong Second U’hu and many of the males put weight on K'yu to hold him down, and Seabird raised his claw over his brother's exposed face.  Slashing twice on each cheek, he marked K'yu as Outcast, and bid the band to drive him off and turn deaf ears to his song.         
 
Seabird watched his fallen brother leave the band, and when they could see the outcast no more, he spoke the law:

"It is Tu'Ell that the band drive out those who violate it.  It is Tu'Ell that the band outcast them, and hear their songs no more.  It is Tu'Ell that the band be strong and fit, and Tu'Ell that any who are not be driven off.  Let not the Children of A'io shelter them.  Or any Child of A'io feed them.  Or any Child of A'io fly with them or sing with them.  They are Outcast, and must be driven from all bands until their crime is washed clean from our hearts and minds.  It is Tu'Ell that this be so, and Tu'Ell must be kept pure."

The band sang as one the song of Tu’Ell, and Seabird felt like he was floating.  This was surely the test of Tu’Ell the stranger had warned me about, he thought.  I feel alive!  Then he remembered that he would both live and die on that day, and the song of the band grew faint in his ears.

“Are you alright?” L’aie asked.

He looked at the water, at the place where K’yu had disappeared into the mist.

“It is Tu’Ell,” he said, and never spoke of it again.

In the seasons that followed, Seabird and L'aie had many chicks and raised them to be strong and beautiful.  The females were all good mothers, and taught the band how to raise fliers according to Tu'Ell.  The males left to become U'hai of their own bands, for Seabird bid them to make homes all over the world.  From Seabird's wings flew flocks of mighty birds, and no matter where his children went, they heard the song of Tu’Ell and knew that Seabird had been there for a time. 

Only among the G'll did Seabird not stay long, for when he arrived they said they would claim him as their own.  When he tried to take flight, they flew around him faster and faster, and said they would make a mountain of fliers he could not overcome. 

Yet Seabird had learned many tricks in his travels, and told them that if their wings were great enough to block O'ia's light for a day, he would indeed stay with them and become G'll. 

The G'll rushed around Seabird, flying furiously fast to block all of O'ia's light, shrieking and yammering in their haste to prove Seabird wrong.  Seabird watched them with a small smile until one of the G'll asked him how he could possibly smile like that while being defeated by G’ll. 

"I am not defeated,” Seabird said.  “Because you cannot stop O'ia's light."

The G'll raged, and said there was no light to be found.  They had won, they cried, and Seabird would be made G’ll this day, this very moment! 

Seabird just smiled, and touched a wingtip to his brow.  The G'll saw a tiny spot of light in Seabird's eye, and cried out that there was an opening in their wall.

Rushing to fill it, they slammed into each other and stopped their wings.  Their wall fluttered open, and Seabird escaped.  As he flew away, the G'll screamed out that there could have been no light, for they had stopped O'ia's bright eye.

Seabird called back, "The light in my eye is Tu'Ell, O'ia's gift to all fliers on land and sea.  As you foolish G'll sought to stop O'ia's light, you instead stopped Tu'Ell from entering your hearts!"

Seabird thought that this, then, was the test of Tu’Ell, for again he felt completely alive.  Was the terrible wall of shrieking birds like death, then?  The thought made Seabird shiver, and he hoped it was not.

The G'll’s wretched screams knocked his thoughts away.  They said that if Seabird would not be G'll then his kind would never rest. 

Their words echoing in his heart, Seabird returned to the band and said to beware the hateful G'll, for they have no Tu'Ell.

Returning from his short time among the G’ll, Seabird decided that he would be done with his test of Tu’Ell.  He thrust himself skyward and vowed not to return until he had followed the course that the Great Sky Bird traced each day and was face to face with the giver of light. 

He pumped his wings in long, powerful thrusts and pushed upwards.  Quickly he flew higher than any bird before him.

The air grew strange and tasted odd.  He felt dizzy and weak, and wondered if he was flying backwards or forwards.  O'ia was no closer, but the world reeled in Seabird’s eyes.  He stuttered on the wind. 
         
He pushed higher still, for no one could say that Seabird was not brave.  He thought by now he would feel O'ia's warmth greater than ever since he was much closer than he had ever been.  But what Seabird found was frost in his blood, and feathers that turned to ice.

Beak shivering, Seabird cried out, “O'ia!  I cannot fly with you this day!”  Turning his icy wings toward the water, he hurled himself from the sky and was glad when he saw A'io coming to meet him.  She chided him for being a silly bird, teased him with a wave.  He warmed himself in her sloughs, sunned his back, and felt warm air on his beak.  He would never try to touch O'ia again, and Seabird always wondered why he froze where he thought he should have burned.

His U’hu met him among the thawing swells.  Seabird's U'hu were mighty birds in their own right.  His First was called B'mo, and he was fast and strong and loyal above all else.  His Second was T'uu, and no better hunter was there to be found among the band except Seabird himself. 

B'mo lead the band on journeys to far away hunting places with many a great feast, and T'uu taught fledglings how to fly and helped them catch their first fish.

Seabird and his U'hu ruled wisely for many many seasons.  The band grew and prospered under their wings, and set an example for all U'hai and U'hu to come.

Yet the test of Tu’Ell eluded him, even on the strange day when the Bird of Many Colors appeared on their shore.

The strange bird demanded council.  When Seabird called the council, the stranger challenged the band to produce their fastest flier.  Seabird stepped forward, but the Bird of Many Colors said it must be one of the band.
 
Seabird's First U’hu said he would take the challenge, and everyone agreed that B'mo was fastest after Seabird. 

The stranger said that B'mo could not race, that it must be one of the band.  The stranger said that the winner would win many many feasts, while the loser will go hungry when O'ia's night eye shivers in winter's pale light.

Seabird called for another racer and his Second U’hu stepped forward.  The Bird of Many-Colors said that T'uu could not race, that it must be one of the band. 

Seabird called again and again, and each time a bird came forward the stranger said it must be one of the band.

Finally there was no one left except the little female, I'yy.  She was without mate and without chick, and when she lifted her tiny voice to challenge the Bird of Many-Colors, the band couldn’t't help but laugh.  Seabird’s face darkened, for he knew that the strangers’ challenge meant that the band would always have enough to eat, or they would find their bellies empty under O’ia’s cold winter eye.

So Seabird wasn’t surprised when the stranger said that I'yy could race and together they lined up at water's edge.  Seabird feared for the little female, saw no possible way for her to outrace such a strange and powerful bird, and little I’yy did not disappoint him. 

They took off as one, and I'yy quickly fell far behind the Bird of Many-Colors.  The stranger seemed to beat his wings twice for each small wing beat of I'yy, and the band gaped at the speed of which the stranger pounded the air.  I'yy fell farther behind with each thrust of her tiny wings.

Seabird knew what he had to do.  He called out to I'yy, “Use Tu'Ell!  Let it carry you!”

I'yy closed her eyes and did just that, and found fast air that pushed her even with the stranger and beyond his reach at the place of the race's end.  The band burst into raucous cheers and song, a torrent of sound about how it was beyond imagining that little I’yy could beat the stranger, but such is the power of Tu’Ell.

Tu’Ell, Tu’Ell, lift us, guide us, carry us home!

The stranger and I'yy circled back to the band, and when they arrived, the stranger declared I'yy the winner and said that the band would find many many feasts.

The band celebrated and invited the stranger to stay with them.  Instead, the stranger lifted his wings and flew off so fast it was like he hadn’t been there at all.  In the moment before he disappeared, they heard him say one last thing.

"I accept," the stranger had said.  "For I am the wind, and will be with you always.  I promise you fast air and many feasts, for even the smallest of you knows Tu'Ell."

Seabird smiled, thinking that he had finally passed the test of Tu’Ell, but his beak dropped when he knew that maybe little I’yy had passed her test, but this race had not been his to run.

When Seabird led the band south to hunt, he thought he may at last have found his test of Tu’Ell.  He told them to expect cold, and bid any who could not endure icy air to remain behind.  None did, and of that he was proud. 

He flew them south a day and a night until the waves heaved with chunks of sea ice and great towering walls of white threw long shadows as they skimmed the frozen swells.  They shivered, beaks clacking with cold, and finally B’mo asked Seabird what he could do to fight off the cold.

"Tu'Ell will keep you warm," Seabird said. "If you have Tu'Ell in your heart."

"But it is not my heart that is cold, U'hai," B’mo said.  "It is my beak!"

Seabird laughed, and scooped up a fish from the chilly water as easily as most birds preen their bellies.  "Then perhaps your beak needs more Tu'Ell," he said.  "Or perhaps the Tu'Ell in your heart should grow so it can reach your beak."

The band laughed, and forgot the cold when a feast of snubsnouts rose from the depths as if a gift meant just for them.  Again Seabird felt alive, but was suddenly stopped by the thought that this could not have been the test, for he was still alive.

Wandering alone in his musings on the test of Tu’Ell, Seabird was challenged to answer a riddle posed by the U'hai of Ru'ikk.  The Children of A’io feared the deadly Ru’ikk, the birds who prey on birds, and the answer would determine who was faster, the fledglings of the band or the fledglings of the taloned ones. 

Seabird found himself surrounded by them, his path blocked by the keen eyes and cutting claws of killer birds.   

So Seabird took the challenge, and knew he had to answer the riddle correctly or the band would suffer as Ru'ikk snatched their young from the sky.  He hoped his Tu’Ell was strong, and wondered if this was finally his test. 

The U'hai of Ru'ikk’s voice was a thick rumble of song.  He asked Seabird, "What is free, yet not, what is bound, yet boundless, what is forever, yet dies each day?"

Seabird searched the hard face of the U’hai of Ru’ikk.  Free, yet not.  Bound and boundless.  Forever, and dies each day.  He finally answered:

"It is O'ia, who is free to roam, yet must warm the world each day or the world will die; bound by his promise to A’io yet boundless on all sides; ageless forever, though his bright eye’s light dies each day to rise again tomorrow."

The U'hai of Ru'ikk screamed in frustration and went for Seabird with snapping talons.  Seabird easily darted away, leaving the Ru’ikk gasping behind him, for in answering the U'hai's riddle he made safe many fledglings, for he proved that the Children of A'io were faster than Ru'ikk.

Was that my test, he wondered as he and L'aie floated peacefully on the sea.  Pondering, he was startled to find that a band of T'ak had risen from the deep. 

They snatched L'aie to hold her ransom, and dragged her down into the far reaches of A’io’s belly. 

Seabird followed, again feeling the press of mighty A’io on his bones.  He asked the T’ak what they wanted, and they said that one of them had eaten a fledgling and found it to be delicious.  They wanted more fledglings to fill their terrible jaws.

Seabird knew that the band had lost many to Ru'ikk and were losing nesting places to the hateful G'll, so he told the T'ak that he had no young ones to spare. 

The T'ak raged, and threatened to bite L'aie in two if Seabird did not give them what they wanted.

So Seabird promised the T'ak that they would have their chance at the band's young when they first took to flight, but only if they ate up two G'll for every Child of A'io they tried to bite. 

The T'ak said they did not care for the taste of G'll, yet agreed with a swish of their tails and released L'aie to air.

The bargain made, Seabird and L'aie taught their young to watch for T'ak and avoid the searching fins and the grabbing jaws of the hungry hunters of the deep.  Since then, for every fledgling taken by T'ak, there are many many more G'll lost and the Children of A'io have a little more room to nest.

In time Seabird forgot about the test of Tu’Ell.  His Tu’Ell had been proven many many times, and it hurt his head to think of it anymore.  He shared with L’aie the part of his song he had left out, and she nodded and said nothing. 

By now the Children of A’io had spread across the world, and all fliers except G’ll knew the sweet taste of Tu’Ell.  The last time he thought of it was that night before falling sleeping at L’aie’s side.  Perhaps all of that was my test, he thought.  Perhaps that was it all along.

The band came back from hunting one day to find a tumult among those who had remained.  A terribly scarred and torn bird had landed in their midst, shouting and crying and demanding that Seabird come.

Seabird came at last, and found the hideous creature calling his name again and again.  He landed in the anxious circle made by the terrified band, and waited while the strange bird gazed at him with cocked head and hooded eye.

"Do you not know me, Seabird?" the stranger asked.

Seabird said he did not, for he had never seen so horrible a bird.  The flier's head was torn, the feathers bare in many places.  His chest and back were a mockery of plumage; long, deep scars furrowed skin where feathers would not grow. 

His legs were bent and twig thin, the skin covered with cuts and badly healed wounds.  He had lost an eye, and his mouth seemed bent in a terrible sneer over which he had no control.

"You know me, oh yes, you know me well," the bird said.  "I am K'yu, the brother you cast out."

Seabird reeled backward when he saw the scars on both cheeks that he had struck with his own claws.  It was indeed K'yu, his own brother, gone to them many seasons and returned as a monster.

"You did this to me," K'yu said.  "You drove me out, to suffer and die alone.  I wanted you to see what you have done!"

The band's voices lifted in terror.  Such a terrible thing was surely against Tu'Ell, surely O'ia would send storm and ice and G'll to punish them for what they had done.  They cried in fear, begged O’ia to forgive them.  The beat their feathers, and banged their beaks, and salty tears stained faces twisted in grief.

Only Seabird stood with his head held high. 

"It was you who did this, my brother," he said.  "Not I.  Your actions against Tu'Ell made O'ia hate you, and your suffering is nothing more than his hatred made flesh."

A stab of Tu'Ell hit K’yu like he had not felt since he stared in horror at his own claw after trying to kill Seabird in his lust for L'aie.  It seared him deeper than any scar.  He reeled, sent spittle from his beak, threw his head back, his beak opened impossibly wide, and a cry so loud and so cold came out of him that all the leaves on all the branches of all the trees fell dead to the ground.  So frightening was that awful sound that trees still drop their leaves when it gets cold.

Seabird raised a wing, and pointed toward A’io.  "Go and never return," he said.  "You have shown us what becomes of Outcasts, what terrors wait for those without Tu’Ell."

K'yu turned away and threw himself into the sky.  With hanging head he slowly made his way out to sea until he was swallowed by mist for the last time.  They would never see him again, but none could forget his scarred face, his broken body, the raging, ruined eye, the slavering mouth and the terrible song that made feathers bunch in horror and leaves fall in fear.

Seabird bid the band to heed what had happened as a sign that they must remain pure.  “If you have Tu'Ell in your hearts,” he said, “You will never know ugliness as seen on the face of K'yu.”  He went among them with soft words, reassured them with smiles, calmed them with song.

Later, he and L'aie sat side by side at their nest, O’ia’s night eye full and round over A’io’s gently rolling waves.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, understanding him as only a mate could. 

Seabird sang a quiet song about his brother, about the time when they were young and roamed the waves.  It had been K'yu who had considered giving A'io the gift of fish, he said, for they had both loved her equally well.  Yet it had been Seabird who brought the gift, and received her blessing in return. 

With throaty voice Seabird sang of how easily it might have been K'yu who had flown transformed over the world, and how it could have been Seabird who flew alone and scarred.

He said he had never felt more alive than when he told K’yu that it was justice that he had suffered, and at the same time knew that he had used part of his last breath to say those words. 

“Was that my test of Tu’Ell?” he asked.  “And if it was,” he turned his face to L’aie, “did I pass?” 

O’ia slowly soared overhead on his eternal flight as the great Seabird, his famous features outlined in the pale moonlight, tucked his head under L’aie’s wing and wept. 

Rain started to fall as he sobbed, for even the Great Sky Bird wept for one of such promise who had been lost.