Ruffled Feathers
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About this ebook
Ruffled Feathers is a short novel exploring two days in the life of Mallard the unlikely hero.
In Broken Beak Woods, it is illegal to fly above your ability. In fact, it is a crime punishable by clipping, the grisly punishment of losing the ability to fly.
Not only was Mallard flying higher than he should, but he was also flying faster than he was allowed. He was up showing his friend Rifleman the sunrise from 30,000 feet.
And now, over the next two days he desperately needs the help of his lawyer Mr. Crow, who has never lost a case before. But Parliament and the courts have become more sinister and stricter against any infractions.
And for just wanting to improve himself and to become greater than just the simple duck he is, Mallard will require more courage and more resolve than he has ever found within to stand up against Parliament and its archaic ways.
Jason Blacker
Jason Blacker was born in Cape Town but spent most of his first 18 years in Johannesburg. When not grinding his fingers down to stubs at the keyboard he enjoys drinking tea, calisthenics and running. Currently he lives in Canada. Under his own name he writes hard boiled as well as cozy mysteries, action adventure, thrillers, literary fiction and anything else that tickles his muse. Jason Blacker also writes poetry and daily haikus at his haiku blog. You can find his haikus and other poetry at his website www.haiqueue.com. For FREE books and to stay up to date and learn about new releases be sure to visit www.jasonblacker.com where you can find more information about his writing and upcoming projects. If you enjoy space opera in the tradition of Star Trek then take a look at Jason Blacker’s pen name “Sylynt Storme”. It is under the name Sylynt Storme where you can find both sci-fi and vampire fiction written by Jason Blacker. “Star Sails” is the space opera series and “The Misgivings of the Vampire Lucius Lafayette” is his vampire series.
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Ruffled Feathers - Jason Blacker
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Ruffled Feathers
Also By Jason Blacker
Ruffled Feathers
by
Jason Blacker
––––––––
PUBLISHED BY:
Lemon Tree Publishing
Copyright © 2013
Jason Blacker
Visit www.JasonBlacker.com for FREE books and other neat stuff!
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
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Editing: Andrea Anesi
Squire’s Spoon
Do you understand the severity of the charges against you?
asked Mr. Crow.
Mr. Mallard sat perched in the large, gnarled oak tree that was Mr. Crow’s office of sorts. Mallard couldn’t understand what the fuss was about. More than that, he was concerned about his lawyer. Mr. Crow had a great reputation, but looking around his office, you wouldn’t believe it.
Papers of all sorts, scraps really, were tossed higgledy-piggledy about, and Mr. Crow pecked through them, grumbling to himself, trying to find the one he was looking for. Mallard watched Crow look around for awhile until he finally gave up.
It’s not important right now anyway,
Mr. Crow said. Tomorrow we go to trial Mr. Mallard and this is very serious indeed.
Mallard couldn’t help but smile to himself. He thought the whole thing was quite bizarre and wonderfully entertaining. But Mr. Crow had furrowed brows and was in no mood for frivolity. He looked wise with his monocle and old with his gray eyebrows and sideburns.
Really, Mr. Mallard, at the very least you must try and act contrite. The Parliament is headed by Tyto Alba who will be the presiding judge. His consulting judges are Asio Otus and Bubo Africanis. These are not men to be toyed with. They take a very serious stand on this sort of behavior. They are also known for meting out the harshest of punishments if the accused is not seen as contrite.
Can I go back and splash in the water? It looks oh so inviting,
asked Mallard as he looked down at the big lake filled like a blanket with his friends.
Mr. Mallard!
Crow was upset and his old voice cracked under the strain as he tried his sternest tone on Mr. Mallard.
Have you not been listening to a word I’ve said? This may not be punishable by death but it certainly is the next thing to it. It might as well be a death sentence if you’re found guilty. And with Mr. Alba at the helm, any, and I mean any, acting out on your behalf is not going to help. He’ll slam that gavel down with the resounding echo of guilty.
But they say you’re the best,
replied Mallard.
I am only as good as my client is willing to allow.
Crow started looking around for that darned paper again.
I really must find it,
he muttered to himself.
I can help you if you’d like,
said Mallard. What are you looking for?
Mr. Crow raised a gray bushy eyebrow at the young man sitting in his office.
I can find it myself. I’d rather you not see it until I’ve found it and showed it to you.
Crow wobbled around his office, his fine black suite a little gray for wear and age. His regal head bobbing up and down as he walked this way and that across his office, looking under this pile and then under that. Mallard gazed down at the pond and wondered when he’d be able to go for a dip again with his friends. He dreamed of diving and splashing in the cool water, his feathers slick with the wet embrace of it all. It was just so unfair that everyone had gotten their knickers in a knot over such a trivial thing. And to think that they were taking it all so seriously was beyond him.
Aha, here it is!
exclaimed Mr. Crow. Now this is what I wanted to show you. I hate to do it, but you just don’t seem to understand the severity of the trouble you’re in.
Crow came back over to where Mallard was sitting and put the picture in front of him. Mallard looked at the image and gasped. He was horrified, he couldn’t believe in such things, such cruelty and barbarism. Not at the hands of his own people. If he were alone he would have cried. He knew that for certain. But sitting here next to the wise and old, and perhaps discombobulated but apparently erudite, Mr. Crow he dared not. He didn’t think the old man would understand.
That’s awful, horrible and mean,
said Mallard, looking away as he felt sick to his stomach.
I know, son, I know. But this is the severity of the charges brought against you. You see what they did to this poor chap, Cygnus Atratus. Look at those fine wings, mangled and clipped to almost nothing. I have to show you one more thing.
Crow reached behind his back and brought out another picture. This one was of the very same Mr. Atratus. His matte black suit dabbled and streaked with red. Mallard couldn’t look at it. He couldn’t hold back the sadness in his soul. He burst into tears.
No, Mr. Crow, no, how could they do this. That’s horrible, horrible, horrible.
Mallard looked away as the tears streaked down his face and around his bill before dropping to the pond below. Crow put a hand around his neck and coughed to clear his throat. He put the pictures behind him on his desk.
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you so much. It’s just that, well, this is what we’re looking at Mr. Mallard if we can’t get you off. Now, Parliament and Crown Council will say that they didn’t actually do that to Mr. Atratus. At least not the last bit. His punishment was the clipping, but his death came at the hands of Mr. Vulpes Vulpes. Which is technically true, but if they hadn’t have clipped him first, I believe he would still be alive today.
Mallard wiped his eyes and looked back at Mr. Crow.
What did he do to deserve such a thing?
Mr. Crow walked over to a side table and grabbed a tissue which he offered to Mallard when he returned. Mallard blew his nose and looked sadly at Mr. Crow through bloodshot eyes.
He was charged with the same thing you have been charged with, though if I can be candid, his theatrics were far less outrageous than yours.
And tell me again, please, what I’ve been charged with?
In simple law you have been charged with Unlawful Flight. Though more specifically you have been charged with Flying Without Proper Featherability.
I don’t understand what that means?
Mallard looked at Mr. Crow through still wet eyes. He might be naïve but sadly, that was not a defense for breaking the law.
It means, son, that you were flying not like the duck you are but like another bird. And that is, except for killing another member of Aves, the most heinous crime that one of us can commit.
Mr. Crow frowned and his jowls sagged. His days of practicing law were numbered and this trial would likely be one of the last. He was tired of trying to work within the system to instigate change. Hardly anything had changed since he had started almost fifty years ago.
Do you think what I did was the most heinous crime next to murder?
Mallard asked the question with sincerity. He wanted to be thought well of, especially by this old man who had become, over the last couple of days, like a grandfather to him. Mr. Crow shook his head slowly and sadly and shrugged as if he was only now unloading the burdens of the world.
"No, Mr. Mallard, I don’t think what you did was heinous at all. This is an antiquated law that should be struck from the books, but I fear that day may still be far away. In the meantime, we need to move forward with a defense to try and get you