Cordelia's Song

By David Stanley

Born with two larger, stronger brothers, Cordelia learns very early how to stand up for herself. Her parents are proud of her courage and tenacity, but they have no idea how valuable those characteristics will be when their peaceful valley home is threatened.
Her father, Corzell has a premonition that something evil is coming to the valley. But the five valley clans are still caught off-guard when the Krat clan, led by Captain Kratt invade the valley and start to banish other magpie clans to take over the clan lands.
During the fight to repel the invaders, many lives are lost. After receiving a head injury and falling into the back of a ute, Cordelia is whisked away to a property hundreds of kilometres from the valley. With no memory of her former life, she must re-discover who she is and where she is from, before finding her way back to the valley to seek revenge on Kratt.
When she returns, what greets her is not one problem but two. In the final fight, assistance comes from an unlikely source.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Morris Publishing Australia
• Release date: Mar 12, 2024
• ISBN: 9780645759884

Book preview

CORDELIA’S

SONG

© David Stanley 2024

The right of David Stanley to be identified as the

author of this work has been asserted by him.

ISBN: 978-0-6457598-8-4

All rights reserved.

This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permissions of Morris Publishing Australia and David Stanley.

This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, incidents, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Morris Publishing Australia

www.morrispublishingaustralia.com

Dedication

To Linda Shields, a wonderful colleague and friend.

NOTES

Cordelia’s Song is completely fictional. All characters, locations and names used in the book are fictional and bear no intentional resemblance to any person known to me, living or dead, although in my mind, as I developed Cordelia’s story, it was set in the Australian state of New South Wales. The fictional names for the magpie (mytre) in the book were all invented by the author, and if they bear any resemblance to First Nations words or indeed words from any other culture, it is purely coincidental.

I believe that all creatures have their own language for the important things in their world. In my story the Australian magpies refer to themselves as ‘mytre’, a unique name that I created as their traditional and ancient name, and this name is used throughout this book. As well, I have created words that my magpie (mytre) use to refer to humans and human things, their Gods, and their relationship with important things in their world. These are listed in the glossary.

Set before you is a story that comes completely from the author’s imagination. The valley and the station locations are completely fictional, although visiting a conglomerate of similar places across rural New South Wales fed my inspiration.

The birds like leaves on Winterwood

Sing hopeful songs on dismal days

They've learned to live life as they should

They are at peace with Nature's ways.

Don Mclean – ‘Winterwood’ (1971)

GLOSSARY

A list of Magpie (Mytre) words used in this book.

MAGPIE (MYTRE) WORDS:

GODS:

Egnaro – The God of the moon, the night the bringer of cold

and darkness

Elppa – The God of the sun, the day the bringer of light and

warmth

Korzela – The God of wind

Xervinu – The God of rain

TIMES OF DAY:

Ksud – Dusk

Nwad – Dawn

Nwod – High sun or noon

OTHER MAGPIE (MYTRE) WORDS USED IN THE STORY

Elpitlum – Community/combined clan meeting or large

gathering of birds.

Keere – Monster or evil thing

Mytre – Magpie

Norzela – Humans

Norzela Nest – Human House/Home

Norzela Park – Human Golf course

Picture Window-Box – TV

RFS – Rural Fire Service (in New South Wales, Australia)

THE VALLEY CLANS

Cor Clan:

Corzell (Clan Leader), Corselia, Cordelia, Coruel, Corxell, Corhelia.

Dart Clan:

Dartvada (Clan Leader), Dartspadd, Dartkull (Youngling)

Kar Clan:

Karmann (Clan Leader), Kardelia, Karbett, Karcelia.

Wayt Clan:

Waytbill (Clan Leader), Waytjulia.

Yat Clan:

Yatnolia (Clan Leader), Yatdoll.

Invaders:

Krat Clan:

Kratt (Clan Leader), Krattac, Kratatora, Kratthood (the Emissary), Kratjoa.

On the Station:

Chris (Station owner), Mary, (Chris’s wife), Lilly (Chris and Mary’s daughter).

Animals: Bruce (The station owner’s chihuahua), Gary (A wedge-tailed eagle), Trev (A Pied Currawong), Sid (A Pied Currawong),

Yrarbil = (A Snake).

PROLOGUE

Unseen

Stand upon the mountain,

Raise your wings up high,

Cast aside the chains of fear,

Trust and you will fly.

Rejoice now in the knowledge,

Returned to you this day,

You’ve always had the power

To simply fly away.

Robert Longley – ‘Fly’ (2014)

THE TWO BIRDS STRODE leisurely across the short cut grass of the putting green. About them, the crisp, still air at the end of the day helped them hear the slightest movement from the worms and grubs that burrowed and tunnelled under their claws. In places, crystal-clear water droplets clung or hung from the taller blades of grass that stood out above the generally even cut lawn.

They had timed their arrival at the green to coincide with the retraction of the automatic sprinkler system and the green was still damp where the water had recently sprayed the area. The putting green also fell under the shade of a tall Norfolk Island Pine that loomed over the western end of the norzela park (human golf course) and the shade and moisture were sure signs that worms and grubs would be easy picking for the pair.

Dartspadd, a male mytre stood still and alert, with his beak pointed like a dart at the ground. His partner, Dartvada mirrored his stance. To a passing observer they would have looked like statues posed, frozen, black, and white against the dark green of the lawn. Both stood perfectly still, listening, and watching for their prey to betray their location. The air about them cooled as Elppa (the sun) sank lower in the west.

Dartspadd picked up some movement, low and to his right. Stealthily he stepped lightly across the lawn and drove his powerful, pointed slate-grey beak-tip into the soil in search of a meal. As Dartspadd withdrew his beak it held the squirming upper part of an earth worm. In one movement, the mytre tossed his head back and swallowed the unlucky worm.

Dartvada looked across at him enviously. She strode quickly over to where he was standing and propped on one leg as she also listened intently for the faint sound of underground movement. She lowered her head toward the ground and within a moment, she could hear the soil being drilled as a worm burrowed below her. Like her partner, she plunged her hard, sharp, pointed beak into the soft, moist, soil and withdrew a long thick earthworm. She too threw her head back and swallowed the unfortunate creature. The two birds looked at each other for a moment, satisfied with the start of their hunt, before each broke into song.

The pair had known each other only two seasons and their songs were still forming, still immature and disjointed. Slight inconsistencies and bars of ill coordinated metre showed that these mytre were in the early stages of their relationship.

However, their song attracted the attention of their son, Dartkull, who had been born the season before. He had remained in the valley to help them secure their territory, their clan lands. The Dart clan land had been established on the small area of the valley to the west of the Wayt clan and south of the main road that separated them from the larger Kar clan lands to their north.

The Dart clan lands consisted of a small area of open bush land, the lower part of the line of Norfolk Island Pine that separated the bush from the norzela park and a small dam that sat on the western fringe of the norzela park.

Their lands were small and lacked any access to norzela nests (human homes), but they’d been welcomed into the valley, and they had settled into their small territory without incident.

Dartkull landed on the putting green and immediately his parents stopped singing. His father, Dartspadd turned his head and acknowledged his arrival. The three birds assumed the statuesque stance of a hunting mytre. Each bird listened and remained still and focused on their search for food under the turf of the green.

Dartkull had not found a meal before a small black and white bird swooped in, flapping vigorously as it snapped the air above the head of the younger mytre. As it did, it cried with a short, shrill, crisp, piercing call then it dropped down to the lawn and waited a moment before repeating its manoeuvre. The magpie lark again flapped and darted over and swooped at the larger black and white mytre, playing the game it did most days.

The younger mytre ignored the bothersome bird and continued to step and listen as it moved carefully over the short cut lawn of the green.

The magpie-lark teased and pestered the bigger bird, as if in a ritual dance, rather than an actual act of irritation or as a threat. In truth, the bigger magpie could easily drive the smaller bird away, but their relationship and the game they played had been one they had learnt from each of their forebears, and it amused the bigger bird to feel the game was still worth bothering with.

The smaller bird darted and dived in and out of the space in front of and above the mytre, and tried to peck and fluster the bigger bird, as Dartkull tried to concentrate on the sound of underground movement.

Becoming frustrated with the game and having their mealtime disturbed, Dratkull’s father, Dartspadd, snapped his beak up at the magpie-lark and flapped briefly into the air to drive it away.

The smaller bird was fast. It rose, pivoted away from the bigger bird, and was away, avoiding its powerful beak before there was any contact. But this too was part of the game to the young bird, and the magpie-lark returned a moment later and resumed his mock attack on Dartkull. About every third dart and dive, Dartkull responded with a flash of his wings or a hop into the air, as his father had done. But nothing they did deterred the invaders’ cries, calls or dives at their heads.

Just ignore it, Dartvada said, sounding mildly irritated, before driving her beak into the soil at her feet to retrieve a moist worm. It squirmed and twisted in her beak before she flicked her head back and swallowed it in one gulp.

I’ll try, Dartkull said, sounding disheartened. Before adding, Although, I don’t mind, we play like this every day. The younger bird enjoyed the game. He was the only youngling in the Dart clan and his games with the magpie-lark were his only opportunity to play before he advanced to adulthood and took on more of the responsibilities that would come with life in a new, small clan on the valley land.

You should go now, Dartkull shouted to his magpie-lark friend. We can play tomorrow.

The magpie-lark chirped a shrill cry and said, Tomorrow, mate. He flew off, toward the tall Norfolk Island pine closest to the putting green, and toward its own nest. The three Dart clan birds continued to stand, listen, and strike as the evening passed toward night and a blanket of darkness sank over the valley.

-0-

Perched high in the branches of the Norfolk Island Pine, another mytre sat still and inconspicuous as he observed the dance of the small magpie-lark and the young mytre on the putting green. He was a large mature bird with a strange white patch of small feathers emblazoned on his forehead. From high in the tree the strange mytre took note of the playful behaviour of the young bird and of his parents as they focused on their hunt for worms. It’ll be easy, he thought. He looked about to be sure no one had seen him.

He watched the magpie-lark fly to its nest a few dozen branches below where he was hidden, and he too waited for the night to drape the valley in darkness. Then he dropped silently from his high branch, diving between the branches of the tree before leveling off and skimming the ground gracefully without needing to flap his wings. He moved quickly and in a straight line towards the open bush land and disappeared into the thick forest of eucalyptus trees to the southwest of the Dart clan lands. He was soon out of sight in the dark, close, forest.

Easy, the big mytre thought, as he stealthily glided into the cover of the trees, unseen. Easy.

PART ONE:

INVASION

1

Nwad

Hope is the thing with feathers —

That perches in the soul —

And sings the tune without the words —

And never stops — at all —

Emily Dickinson - ‘Hope is a thing with Feathers’ (1861)

THE BRIGHT ORANGE-GOLDEN orb appeared slowly, tipping the crest of the low hills on the eastern side of the valley. A shadow lay still, across the norzela park that covered the eastern hillside’s lower slopes. The light grew slowly on the tall branches and leaves of the trees on the western side of the valley’s slopes and was soon gracing the upper branches of the Cor clan’s nest tree, a tall Spotted Gum whose leaves rustled and whispered to each other in the gentle breeze.

Other flora graced the slopes, sides, and floor of the valley. This included a line of rigid Port Jackson Pines, used to create a wind break along the driveway that ran up to the homestead on the Cor clan’s territory, and an occasional handsome, straight Cedar Wattle that grew near the creek line.

A whispered breeze ran through the small stand of stumpy Cootamundra Wattle and green trunked Black Wattle from the same gentle wind, as they stood freely across the western fringe of the lower valley slopes. Low shrubs of Rubiaceae, Woombye, Handsome Flat Pea, and the purple open flowers of the Kangaroo Apple grew in clumps and isolated islands at the bases of the taller trees or near the rocks along the creek line.

Tooth-leafed Heath Banksia and silver-leafed Silver Banksia spread out along the shaded areas at the sides of the sealed road that split the valley north from south. Weeping Bottlebrushes and Mudgee Wattle hugged the lower eastern slopes of the valley, before the stately, steady trunks of the Norfolk Island Pines that separated the norzela park from the private lands of the valley and acted like a line of giant sentinels looming from the brightening gloom.

Two mytres of the Cor clan, Corzell and Corselia, raised their heads from their deep nest and began a chorus from their home in the Spotted Gum, to welcome the return of Elppa, (the sun). Quardle oodle ardle waddle doodle, they sang simultaneously. As a mated pair with a long history of successful breeding, they sang in almost perfect unison.

Their nest tree or home tree was always the first in the valley to be blessed by Elppa’s light. Elppa was the bringer of light, and warmth. He was the God of day, of summer heat and winter warmth. The shrill call of a kookaburra had told them that Elppa was coming, and the birds of the valley were already awake, eagerly awaiting the growing glow of nwad (the dawn).

The kookaburra was always awake before Elppa’s arrival and his crass, raucous, course, cackling, laughing call seemed to the mytre’s ears, to mock Elppa. The kookaburra was loud, uncouth, and unwelcome in the valley by most of the mytres there, although Corzell tolerated his early morning calls and was even willing to share their home tree, affording the kookaburra a clear view across the valley floor.

More than once, the kookaburra had picked up and eaten a small brown snake or young goanna or monitor lizard, plotting to climb up their nest tree and steal Corzell and Corselia’s eggs or young. The kookaburra had sometimes also called out a warning of an approaching wedge tailed eagle or brown goshawk.

Corselia and Corzell had only ever known this kookaburra as ‘the kookaburra’ because in all their years in the valley they’d only ever met this one. But they also knew his name was Bill. Corzell knew there were other kookaburras in the area, but they all seemed to keep their distance or keep to themselves, although they often heard the nwad and ksud (Dusk/Evening) calls from others.

The two black and white feathered birds coordinated their vocalising and as well as celebrating Elppa’s return. They carolled to thank Bill for his unusual vigilance, friendship, and for his help to protect their nest tree.

As Elppa rose into the lightening, clear blue-sky, Corselia shuffled for comfort on the eggs where she had spent the night. She now sat comfortably on the three eggs that she’d laid weeks before. Corzell hopped over, through the still dew-dappled branches, to take a place next to her by their nest. He leant in and placed a grub on the lip of the nest for Corselia to snatch up for breakfast. After swallowing the fat, white grub, Corselia moved in the nest and fluffed out her chest feathers before she settled back to her nursery duties.

Shall I take your place? Corzell offered seeing his partner moving for comfort in the nest, although he knew she would say no.

No, she said.

Corselia was his partner and while she would welcome an opportunity to fly off and gather her own food, even if only for a short time, she knew her place and her responsibility was to sit with her three eggs and with the young ones until they hatched, right up until they had feathers. She looked up, thankfully, at Corzell, and repeated, No dear, I’ll be fine here as long as you keep bringing those juicy fat grubs. Then she added cheerily, I felt some movement in one of the eggs.

Soon then, if Egnaro and Elppa bless us, Corzell said gladly, as he reached out a feathered wing to touch his partner as she wriggled again, before settling down, finally, over the eggs.

Corzell had been on guard all the previous night and after his short flight to bring the grub back for Corselia’s breakfast, he found himself feeling tired and drawn.

I hope they come soon my love, I get quite stiff and tired, perched here in the nest tree in the chilly night air. Egnaro has no pity for an old mytre in a high tree.

Old… you’re not old, Corselia said, with a chuckle, dismissing his concern.

Corzell was not old. He had seen only ten summers, and he was still in his prime. As he stretched out each wing and arched his neck up and down to loosen the stiffness, Corselia studied him. He is still a handsome bird, she thought.

Corzell was as big as mytres get, he had a dark black chest, and his wings were almost all black, apart from what looked like a racing stripe along each shoulder and down across to each wing tip. While most mytres had a white band of feathers on the nape of their necks, Corzell’s white band extended from the back of his neck and head to join at his throat in an almost complete circle of white feathers. It looked like a bandana tied under his chin and draped back over his neck. His eyes were the strong amber of a mature adult, and he held his head proudly. His beak was powerful and white apart from the pointed tip, which was a pale black.

Corzell was considered big for a mytre, although in spite of his size, he was also lean in flight, so that he could fly swiftly and his inflight manoeuvrability was legendary, at least amongst the mytre’s of the shallow valley they called home.

I feel old now, he said, adding, During Egnaro’s passing it was cold, and I had a sense of... he hesitated. … a sense that something strange… something odd… something… sinister is coming. He hesitated again. The valley seems uneasy… a change, a calamity, something new or something dangerous is coming.

Corselia regarded him with concern. Her partner had a powerful sense for activities in the valley and a gift of foresight that she or he could not explain. She’d been his partner since her adolescence. They’d raised eight previous clutches of chicks who had all grown and flown because they were a good partnership. Four offspring from an earlier clutch still lived in the home tree and two of their first clutch of young lived in the gum tree next to their nest tree.

It meant the Cor clan were the second largest in the valley. Others of their offspring had joined with clans of the valley or flown to make their life in other parts of the district. They were one of the most successful partnerships in the valley and she knew her partner well, she trusted his judgments, his feelings and she worried now about his anxiety.

What is it? she asked in a whisper, as concern gripped her.

Corzell felt foolish upsetting his partner this way, before Elppa had warmed their nest, and before the other clans had joined in the nwad celebration of Elppa’s return. He stretched high on his black legs with his claws holding firmly to the branch. He sang out a short chorus to the eastern hills and the growing glow of Elppa. Then he said reassuringly, It’s nothing… just a feeling… I don’t know, it might be nothing, or the cold in my feathers. It’s probably that… the cold. He began to swipe his long thick beak on the sides of the branch at his feet. As he did, his beak clicked and knocked on the wood. It’s just Egnaro’s cold talking, he said at last, ignore me.

She could see he was putting on a brave face. She knew him too well to be reassured by the dismissal of his feelings as, ‘Just Egnaro’s cold getting to his feathers’. But she also knew better than to press him on his concerns. He’ll tell me when he knows more, she told herself.

Slowly, around them the valley was coming to life as the rays from Elppa spread across the valley floor and up the far slope, over the norzela park and to the eucalypt forest beyond. The mytres from other clans, and many other birds, had started their nwad welcome celebration, singing, and carolling the arrival of Elppa’s warmth and light.

Corzell could clearly hear the chirps and cries from other residents of the valley. A tribe of splendid fairy-wren had their nests in a bush next to the norzela nest (human house). The fairy-wren also welcomed Elppa’s arrival and although Corzell couldn’t see them nervously flying out to the gravel drive and snatching up ants or small flying insects, he could hear their distinctive and sharp tsit cries and short reel of pips and trills as they began the days hunt.

Near them, a small family of willie-wagtails lived in a hedge near the back of the norzela nest. These fidgety, small black and white birds fed on spiders and tiny insects around the garden, and the mosquitoes that swarmed up from the dam after the rain or when the air was still.

He looked skyward and saw a flock of galah fly sleepily over the home tree and turn as one, to spiral down and land near the orchard on the far side of the creek. Their pink and grey feathers flashed brightly in Elppa’s rays as they turned and twisted in a feathered mob, ready to land. Almost as one, they let out a loud strident chee chee that was shrill and sharp to Corzell’s ears. It sounded like a wounded bird calling out to others in distress, but he knew it was the distinctive cry of the galah. He scanned the area as each bird started to waddle about between the fruit trees, pecking and scratching in the short grass and fallen leaves.

As he watched, a speedy Welcome Swallow flashed past his gaze and rolled and spun as it chased its prey on the wing. The small glossy black bird caught his eye as it was rare to see them this far from the norzela’s nest and the water of the small dam on the north side of it. Corzell knew that they had their nest of mud under the eaves of the norzela nest’s roof and they were most likely to stay in the vicinity of their nest site, as it was homing season.

The swallow banked swiftly and sang out to Corzell in a sharp high pitched tswit tit-swee as he passed. Morning, Sir, Elppa’s greetings to you, the swallow chirped as a rapid morning greeting. The swallow didn’t wait for a response from Corzell. As quickly as he’d appeared, the bird dived low under the lower branches of the home tree and speared its way back to its mud nest under the eaves of the nearby norzela nest.

Corzell was fast in flight, and could manoeuvre well on the wing, but he knew he could never hope to match the dark, fork-tailed mastery of the swallow in agility and speed. Other birds were coming out from their nests or sleeping perches, and as Corzell continued to look out over the valley, he could hear the various birds fill the nwad air with chirps, twitters, warbles, and carols to welcome Elppa’s light and warmth.

Far off, a flock of little corellas sang curr-ur-up as they drifted noisily over the treetops of the eucalypt forest to the south. In the lower branches of the nest tree a pair of magpie-lark cried out with a piecing peewee song, sung back and forward between a new mating pair. They had made their nest under the veranda of the norzela nest on the northern side of the property and were eagerly chasing flying insects and singing of their bliss.

All the birds also sang at the finish of the day, at ksud (evening) and although the birds loved the God Egnaro as much as Elppa, there was something altogether more joyful in their nwad chorus, something glorious, almost spiritual in the renewal of the day and the warmth that Elppa brought. Corzell drew strength and hope as the day opened across the valley, under the bright spring sun. Sitting high in the home tree, he felt like Lord of all the valley, although he knew he was not.

If any mytre was Lord of the valley, it was Karmann. He was the elder statesman of the valley mytre and leader of the largest clan, the Kar clan, to the east. Corzell and Karmann were old friends, but Corzell was glad not to have the responsibility of valley leadership, and as his feathers warmed, he felt calm, proud, and at peace. He soon forgot his feelings of unease and disquiet. A gentle breeze blew the feathers on his breast, and he took a deep breath and sat up to stretch his neck.

Corzell quickly looked out across the valley that had been his home since his birth. He had been born in the same tree he now sat in. It was where his family had grown and lived for as long as the tree had stood.

The valley was green and lush, with open grasslands and sporadic tussocks of Kangaroo Grass strewn between the stands of scattered Wattle, Marblewood, Cooba, and various types of Eucalyptus tree.

A shallow creek ran the length of the valley from north to south, and on either side of the creek before a sealed road spanned the valley east to west were two small orchards of fruit trees. Corzell’s tree was on the western side of the valley, near a gravel road that ran up to the rural property that marked the upper limit of the Cor clan’s territory.

He watched as two male norzela children came from the norzela nest on bikes. The property had a large norzela nest, and a few sheds or smaller outbuildings, including a wooden kennel for the norzela’s old, lazy golden dog. A small dam had been built behind the norzela nest and Corzell knew that the two boys were from the property at the end of the gravel road. He’d watched them play before the norzela nest or ride their bikes up and down the gravel drive for years. His tree sat in an ideal location for overlooking the gravel road, the norzela nest, and the majority of the Cor clan’s territory. From his perch in the home tree, he could see the sealed road running past the two orchards before it rose a little over a small bridge and then disappeared into the heat haze in the east.

The creek that ran along the valley floor formed the main boundary between the Cor clan’s territory and the bigger, Kar clan to the east. The small creek ran well in winter or if spring rain blessed the valley, but in summer the creek became a long train of disconnected pools. Still, it was there to quench their thirst and it offered a clear delineation between the two clans above the road.

Three norzela nests had been built amongst the trees and fields of the upper valley. One was on the Cor clan’s side of the creek. The other two norzela nests were across a wide grassed area above the creek. They both sat in the territory of the Kar clan.

The Kars had been in the valley before any of the other mytre clans and their elder, Karmann, had been a respected leader when Corzell’s father had been young. The Kar’s side of the upper valley occupied the largest of the mytre’s territories in the small valley, and along with the two norzela nests, their territory had access to the east side of the creek, the other small orchard of fruit trees near the sealed road, and ample open grassland and groves of banksia and eucalyptus trees. It also boarded the norzela park that made up the far-eastern limit of the Kar clan’s land. Corzell could also see as far as the territories of the other three clans in the green, still sleepy, shallow valley.

The other three clans were all smaller, with nests in the lower reaches of the valley. Yat clan occupied the area directly south of Cor clan across the sealed road. They also had access to the west side of the creek as it ran south, but a thick forest of eucalyptus and other trees, only a few hundred metres below the road, limited their territory, meaning Yat clan had access