《Tales of Taralensia - The Lost Son》


 Prologue + Chapter 1 - Fall From Grace

    As he fell, he had the vague inclination that he should scream. The wind whipped him from above, tangling his long golden hair and staining it red and wet as his temple gave another urgent throb. The pain seared through him like electricity, shorting out all his other thoughts. So he started over. Again.


    It really was a lovely day, even through the sparks and spots that speckled his gaze, even through the persistent pain in his head. The wind felt lovely on his limbs. It was almost like flying. Not that the thought was exciting in and of itself. After all, he''d been flying since puberty. Maybe it was just the day. Or the fact that he was moving very, very fast. Or perhaps how his wings hung limp against his back, thrashing uselessly against the currents of air. Perhaps he should be concerned. His brow furrowed, the motion sending a surge of electric spasm again, eradicating his thoughts.


    He started over.


    The wind was warm and smelled of salt, when he could focus enough to draw breath. There was a pain in his ribs, in his gut, in his limbs. He felt he should try and open his wings, but he was falling too fast. Maybe if he rolled over -- the agony in his temple demanded attention. He tried to bring his hand up to touch it, but whether it was the wind or some other weakness he wasn''t able to focus on, it wouldn''t cooperate. Above his head the sky glistened in waves. No wait. Not sky. Water. The ocean was beautiful, way up there. He was falling up so quickly, soon he''d hit that big blue ceiling. Something nagged at him. He should be worried, but... why again? He''d been falling forever, for as long as he could remember. By Imodai the water was so pretty. He felt like he could reach out and touch it. Like it was rushing up to greet him.


    Throb. Wince. Start over.


    It was unseasonably windy for this time of week, and the sun was out rather late. And rather south. So far south, in fact, he could see it dancing just below his toes. This made him frown again, ignoring whatever it was trying to gnaw on his skull. There was something he needed to do. What was it? Something very important, but it flitted at the edges of his muddled mind. He thought he had it, lost it, found it again. But before he could determine the details, the impact shattered what was left of his thoughts and the world became suddenly, instantly, unseasonably wet.


    1


    The sound of his own boots on the stonework echoed in his head. Walk, don''t run. Don''t run. An accident, they said there was an accident. It won''t save anyone to run. To cause a panic. His wings ached, the echo of his boots increased in frequency. Don''t run. Don''t run. Don''t fly. He kept his wings snapped hard against his back andthe tension ran up his shoulders. Walk, don''t run. Walk. Don''t fly. His son was hurt. There was an accident. His son was hurt. His son. His only son.


    He turned a corner sharply, giving his wings a pump to take him up the flight of stairs in a fraction of the time it would take to climb. He could just fly the whole way. Fly there, no one would even question it. No, he commanded himself, closing his eyes tight for a moment. We''re almost there. Panic does nothing. Be calm. Walk, don''t run. Walk, don''t fly. When he opened them again, he could see the outside of the Temple, and through the glass he could see the healers moving about. There was no urgency to their motions. Which either meant that he was stable or...


    He didn''t run, but he did walk exceedingly fast.


    He opened the door with more force than he had meant to, and was immediately intercepted by a woman he thought he recognized. Owlclan, with downy wings in mottled tan and a calm expression. Her hands went to his chest, and it was then he realized he was still trying to move forward. "Elias, he''s okay. He''s alive." He was out of breath, his heart pounding so hard in his chest he was sure she could feel it.


    "What happened?" He snapped, more aggressively than he meant to, but he made no move to recover. "What''d he do this time?"


    "Elias... " Her voice had a warning note, and he steeled himself, taking a slow, deep breath. It was then that he noticed the water pooling around his boots. He stepped back gingerly, giving the healer a questioning look.


    "He fell off of a Spoke," she answered him. Elias'' brown eyes narrowed, disbelieving as she continued. "He landed off of the coast of the Third Claw, a Yseri fishing boat saw him come down and was able to pull him out. Thank Imodai for that vibrant blue, hmm?"


    "...He fell."


    "That''s right," she answered in the Owl''s irritatingly succinct way.


    "...He has wings. Why didn''t he fly?" His irritation was rising, the edge coming back into his voice.


    "Well... We actually wanted to discuss that with you." She said, her voice calm and level.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    She touched his hip to guide him deeper into the temple through a curtained doorway. As soon as he passed into the white marble room, the sound of a tiny familiar bell caught his attention. He glanced down in time to avoid tripping over the light calico cat who mewed impatiently at him as she coiled around his ankles. As she untwined herself and lead the way, tail high in the air like a flag, he was relieved to see her collar had not been removed.


    The room she lead them to was clean and smelled faintly of herbs. A steady breeze flowed through it, ruffling the shamanistic ornaments that had been arranged over the flat, raised bed where his son laid. On his belly, one hand dangling over the edge, Elias paused to study him. Like most of the Aven race, he could easily pass for human if not for the birdlike wings that sprouted from his back. Blond hair that usually fell in loose ringlets now hung limp and wet against his face. His eyes were shut, and ignoring the black-winged woman working on him, Elias moved quickly forward, bringing his own feathers forward, close to the boy¡¯s nose and mouth. They ruffled softly with each breath, with his own sigh of relief he finally relaxed enough to take in the extent of the damage.


    His son had been stripped down to a pair of loose pants, his clothes a soggy pile in the corner from where the healers had cut or pulled them off of him. The young man¡¯s head had been wrapped in bandages, a spot near his temple was tinged pink as blood slowly leached through. One arm was splinted, but it was his wings that caught the father¡¯s eye. Vibrant, iridescent blue, they seemed to capture the light reflected on the polished white walls and send it dazzling back in every direction. Not tawny and soft like the Owlclan, nor rich soil-brown like the Eagles. Like his own. No, these were vivid. Loud. Unmistakable. A Peacock through and through. And one was bent at a very odd angle.


    The cat¡¯s insistent meowing snapped him back to reality and he turned his sharp eye to the Raven girl who was working on him. ¡°You. Explain.¡± He snapped curtly. The girl stammered, blushing a deep crimson and looking to the older woman for assistance.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Cara. Elias, your son was very lucky. He hit the water in such a way that his left shoulder and wing broke the surface tension. His shoulder was dislocated, he¡¯ll need to wear a sling until it recovers.¡±


    The cat leapt up onto the table and sat between the young man¡¯s wings, waving an impatient paw at Elias with another demanding mew. ¡°Roy.¡± He snapped firmly, staring down at the Peacock. ¡°Get up.¡± The cat made a whining meow and headbutt the back of his skull with her forehead. ¡°Get down, Rune. Roy, get up.¡±


    ¡°Elias, stop it ¨C¡°


    ¡°You do not dare to command me, Mia ¨C¡°


    ¡°Maya.¡± She corrected calmly.


    ¡°Maya. Do not forget, I am High Justice and Patriarch of ¨C¡°


    ¡°Patriarch of House Redquill, yes yes. Forgive me, High Justice, for I am just the Grand Air Caller and the one who is still in the process of saving your son. But by all means, stomp in here, yell at my apprentice and my patient and molt all over my floor. And when you¡¯re done, High Justice, I will be happy to continue explaining the necessary details of your son¡¯s injuries.¡±


    Elias Engelbrecht set his jaw in irritation, his sharp brown eyes locked on Maya¡¯s calm ones. After a long, tense moment, he relented, his wings sagging slightly. ¡°¡­Continue¡­¡±


    ¡°Thank you. As I was saying, his shoulder is dislocated but we reset it. His wing on the other hand is broken.¡±


    ¡°How bad?¡± As Maya moved closer to let him examine, he followed her.


    ¡°It seems to be a clean break. We¡¯ll set it and put him in a harness. There¡¯s swelling in the joints of both wings, it could be a sprain. I want to see him morning and night for treatment. Yseronai smiled on him today. It could have been far worse, Elias... The Healing Winds are working well for him.¡±


    The High Justice gave a soft, disapproving grunt, then turned to touch the bandage near his temple. Rune insistently pushed her head against his fingers. Absently he pet Roy¡¯s cat, feeling her purrs vibrate under his fingers. ¡°What¡¯s this here?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­. That¡¯s what I wanted to talk to you about. It looks like he didn¡¯t simply have a misstep and forget he was Aven. Take a look here.¡± She carefully lifted the boy¡¯s head to unwind the bandages. When he didn¡¯t react, Elias frowned.


    ¡°Concussion? You¡¯re not supposed to let them sleep if he had a head injury, he could wake up mad ¨C or not wake up at all ¨C¡°


    ¡°Easy, Elias. This sleep is artificial while we work on his wing. A healer¡¯s sleep. He will not go mad. And he will wake up again.¡± The remaining bandages pulled away, the pad removed from over his temple. A V-shaped cut was still weakly weeping blood, the beginning blush of a bruise spreading all the way down into the socket of his eye. When it matured, it would no doubt be impressively blackened.


    ¡°Do you see the cut? What do you think could have caused that?¡±


    He distrusted her tone. It was that of a teacher, of someone who knew something important, but wanted her student to come to the same conclusion himself. He leaned low, distracted by the odd peacefulness of the boy¡¯s breathing, and tried to study the impact wound. For a moment, all he could see was the little boy with big blue eyes wanting to hold Daddy¡¯s sword, and ¨C ¡°Sword? Is that a pommel impact mark?¡±


    ¡°Very good. It looks like he was in a fight, and the marking does appear to be from a pommel. From the shape and depth, it looks to be a blunted pyramid. Which is standard for the swords of the Skyguard, if I¡¯m not mistaken?¡±


    Slowly he straightened, his eyes narrowing. ¡°What are you implying?¡±


    ¡°I imply nothing, High Justice. Though are you aware of anyone with access to a Skyguard weapon who might take issue with your son?¡±


    He sighed heavily. ¡°¡­It might be easier to say who in the Skyguard does not take issue with Roy.¡± Elias rubbed the bridge of his nose. ¡°¡­When can I take him home?¡±


    ¡°As soon as his wing is set and braced he should start coming around. Will you wait?¡±


    ¡°I will be close. I have¡­ someone I need to talk to.¡±

 Chapter 2 - The Spoke

    The sun kissed the ocean and lit it on fire. The sky flared in red and orange, and the sea beneath it flared back. It was beautiful and strangely haunting, staring at the sunset. Something stirred briefly, and he wondered if it was the same stirring that drove the bards to their songs and stories, the artists to their painting. But the stirring died quickly, replaced with stony determination. He was here for a reason, standing on the Spoke. Well, the third spoke of the day, really. What was he doing? What did he expect to find here? A pictogram of what happened? A diary from the assailant? He chuckled to himself at the ridiculousness of the idea.


    But the fact remained that he hadn''t seen a sign of a scuffle yet, therefore he hadn''t found the right spoke. There was a much easier way to do this. So why was he dallying? With a reluctant groan, he turned his eyes skyward. High above, Aven with massive wing spans circled as black silhouettes against the darkening blue. They soared effortlessly, gliding on the currents of warm air from the sea and the Dragon Isles below. Not once did he see one need to flap their wings. Vultureclan, no doubt. They were popular candidates for the Skyguard Overwatch, by nature of their endurance. As he watched, one spotted him, and slowly turned in his direction. It seemed almost lazy, the way it drifted closer, but as the Aven drew himself in to land, Elias could feel the force of the wind caught beneath the Vulture''s wings. A bar above was grasped in strong hands to stop his forward momentum, and the guard folded his massive wings behind him. The white tips of the black feathers brushed the ground.


    "Lieutenant!" The guard said, dropping to one knee, "I thought it might be you. To what do I owe the honor?"


    Elias took a step back to give the Aven room, "No need for all that, Velius, I''m long retired. Are you off duty?"


    Velius straightened up. He stood a full head taller than the High Justice, heavily muscled with skin deeply tanned. His head had been shaved, and the tattoos that decorated his scalp only seemed to accent the scars from battle. His huge hand rested lazily on the pommel of his sword. A blunted pyramid. "I am, my Lord. Is there a reason you are lingering so close to the edge this evening?"


    "Perhaps. I trust you heard about today''s earlier... unpleasantness?"


    "The assault? Indeed, my Lord. It happened just over--"


    "Assault? I heard it was a fair fight."


    Velius gave the Eagle a confused look, his dark eyes studying the man for a long moment. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"


    "Of course."


    "What in all of Taralensia could that boy go up against that would be considered a fair fight? A cloudmouse with a cold?"


    Elias gave an annoyed sigh through his nose. "You saw differently then?"


    "I saw an argument. I saw it escalate. And I saw your son go down. It was rather quick, the Falcons weren''t able to intercept in time." Velius paused. "...did he survive?"


    "It would seem so. Where did you say this happened?"


    "I''ll show you, come." Velius said, and stepped off of the Spoke. Elias felt his stomach drop, but the Vulture reappeared shortly after, gliding towards a different spoke off to the east. With a hard pump of his wings, he flew to catch up.


    When they landed, Elias gently and Velius again with use of the bar, it was clear that this was the right spoke. The long point of white marble jutted out into oblivion, but the area before it became too narrow afforded a gorgeous view of the sea and the Isles below. He paused a moment to appreciate the appeal. "This is where you saw it then?"The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Yes, m''lord. Roy comes out here frequently to write. I believe he had his cat with him."


    Elias looked around, spotting a broken quill with a metal nib nearby. Iridescent blue. It didn''t take much guesswork to determine whose wing it had come from. There was also a small dried fish with bits torn off of it, identical to the treats he bought for Rune, and a stack of bound papers with a simple blue cover. Velius spotted the journal and let out an excited cry, rushing to scoop it up. Before Elias could protest, the Guard had the book open and was skimming through it, his face practically glowing with elation.


    "I was hoping he''d continue this one next! Clockwork Dawn..." and then he fell silent for a long moment while he read.


    "...Have you completely lost your mind."


    Velius snapped back into reality. "I-I''m sorry sir?"


    "What are you doing?"


    "My apologies, sir. His stories bring quite a break to the tedium, I just thought--"


    "His stories?? I work day and night to get the truth out of the boy without wheedling and you encourage this?"


    "Begging your forgiveness, Lieutenant, but have you read these? They''re inspired! This one is about a dark elf who makes clockwork weapons, but he dreams of becoming a toy maker. So he comes to the surface--"


    "Velius..."


    "-- to apprentice under a toymaker. But he has trouble adapting his designs --"


    "Velius."


    "-- from weapons to toys. So instead he comes up with terrifying chimaeras, like dollies with knives for hands, or explosive-filled snuggle-scorpions. In the last tale, it was hinted that his career might come to a tragic end sooner rather than later. ...Are you okay, Lord Engelbrecht?"


    Elias was rubbing his temples slowly, his eyes closed. "...a migraine, Velius. You''ve given me a migraine."


    "Apologies, my lord. It was not my intention."


    "It never is. You said you saw the altercation?"


    "Yes, M''lord. Your son was here since early morning, sitting approximately here," the Vulture said as he crossed over to one of the sleek pillars. Elias followed, his keen eyes hunting for every detail. Specs of ink here, a fingerprint there. Nestled between the pillar and the wall that separated this area from the rest of the breezeway he could see an inkpot stashed, along with something else. He moved closer to get a better look.


    "How long was he here?"


    "He comes here frequently, M''lord. He arrived some time before tenth-call and was here for at least five laps."


    "How long is a lap?"


    "About ten minutes if the winds are good, M''lord." Elias stooped, pulling the inkwell out carefully. It was still uncapped. Behind it was something cloth and white. Reaching in, he carefully pulled out the length of cloth. No, not cloth. A cloak, in marble white with unobtrusive gold embroidery. How many times had he told him to get a more respectable color, one that was less blatant, less showy. Something darker perhaps.


    "When did you notice anything unusual?"


    "Before eleventh-bell. I did not see the other individual arrive, but they seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion. The escalation occurred when the second individual appeared to make a motion towards Roy''s cat. Your son took... exception... to that."


    "Did you see who made the first blow?"


    Velius hesitated. "Your son struck first, my lord."


    Elias had to bite his inner cheek to keep the ghost of a proud smile from his lips. "I see." He said instead. "And then what happened?"


    "There was an altercation. The second individual moved to draw his weapon and Roy''s cat leapt on him. I didn''t see what happened after, but it appeared that your son took a blow to the head, because he was staggering. It was then that he fell. I sounded the alarm, but Falconwatch were too far, even at full dive."


    "And were you able to identify this second party?"


    Again Velius hesitated. "...I was, M''lord."


    Elias turned, draping the white cloak over his arm and raising his bow expectantly.


    "...My lord... You know who it was."


    "Indulge me."


    With a defeated sigh, Velius Shadowcaster replied. "Jacob, m''lord. Jacob Redquill."

 Chapter 3 - Great Shaggy Wings

    There wasn¡¯t so much the sensation of pain as there was the acute awareness that pain was being suppressed. The darkness swirled and ebbed in his head, and he wanted to move, to shake off the numbness, but with each shift, he felt that strange dulling of awareness. Moving was not a good idea. He should enjoy the numb while he could.


    He heard a soft giggle somewhere outside that intense dim and tried to turn his head towards it. The motion felt clunky and off, and he heard a low, tired groan of frustration rise from his chest. This simply elicited another bright giggle that confused him further.


    ¡°Cara,¡± Maya chided softly, carefully rolling up the remainder of the bandages. ¡°Be professional and let him wake up.¡±


    The girl was sitting near his recovery bed at a closeness that was almost inappropriate for a young healer. ¡°But he¡¯s so¡­.¡± She caught herself, looking carefully at her mentor. Maya rolled her eyes. Of course Cara was infatuated with him. He was handsome, with cream-smooth skin and while his features were sharp and well defined, they lacked the blockiness of his Eagle relatives. Even limp and smelling faintly of sea water, his hair was a thick, beautiful gold, and though currently scraggly and still water-logged under the harness, the blue of his wings was entrancing. All of this was superimposed against his current dilemma. Sleep tonics were wonderfully useful and incredibly powerful, though the twilight between the deep slumber and wakefulness could be a bit confusing to navigate. The end result was the stumbling awkwardness of a newborn puppy. A handsome, drugged puppy who could only struggle to open his eyes and attempt to sit up.


    Cara giggled as he tried to pull himself onto his good arm, wobbled, and flopped down harmlessly. His eyelids pulled heavily open, but the orbs behind swirled uselessly and they fell closed again. ¡°Don¡¯t fight it,¡± she said with a gentleness in her voice that Maya suspected was not solely part of her normal bedside manner. The boy gave a tired, grumbling noise in response and fell back asleep.


    ¡°He should sleep as long as he can. He is in for a few painful days ahead.¡±


    ¡°And a few flightless weeks,¡± Cara said with a sigh, drawing away from the recovery table. While all of the floating city of Avenholme was accessible on foot, to be grounded for any length of time was a frustration that most Aven avoided at all costs. They were creatures of air, and a pair of useless wings weighed as heavily on the soul as they did on the back. "And you''re sure he''ll be able to fly again?"


    "Of course," the Air Caller said shortly. "It was broken, not pinioned. He''ll be fine. You weren''t too worried about the old man who flew into the south tower last week."


    Cara wrinkled her nose, pushing her light brown hair over her shoulder. "Well he was drunk. And he shouldn''t have been flying so erratically."


    "We didn''t know he was drunk at the time. He could have been enchanted, or poisoned. It''s important that we never judge, it only takes one hasty judgement to make a terrible mistake. That goes for your life as well as your profession."


    Cara sighed and went to begin preparing the pain relieving herbs that were prescribed, glancing over her shoulder as he moaned softly again. There was the tinkle of a bell as Rune leapt up onto the table, returning from whatever important business a cat would have in Avenholme. She wriggled herself under his bandaged arm and began purring loudly. Cara couldn''t help but smile. Cats, while exotic, were not completely unheard of in the city, but a flightless animal would be at the same disadvantage as a flightless person. One misstep could lead to a very bad day.


    "Well... hello beautiful..." came the tired voice, husky with the haze of sleep. Cara blinked in surprise, before realizing he was talking to his animal. The calico purred louder, kneading her front paws against his forearm. He tried to move to pet her, but grimaced in pain instead. To compensate, Rune flopped onto his hand, letting him wiggle his fingers against her soft coat.


    Maya moved to sit before him, he had difficulty tracking her silent movements. She frowned. The bruise was beginning to darken and the eye itself was badly bloodshot.


    "Madam Whisperwind," he said, attempting a charming smile but only succeeding in a woozy, lopsided grin. His voice was slurred and groggy. "You look as ravishing as usual. Silver is a fantastic color on you."


    "A ten thousand foot drop and an unplanned swim, and your first instinct is to flirt with an old woman," she chuckled.


    "Old?" He said, voice thick but still appropriately scandalized. "You, my dear, aren''t a day over ninety."


    She let out a barking laugh, "Such a charmer you are. You needn''t work so hard, Roy, I already have you in my bed." The boy blushed a deep crimson, glancing down at the recovery table. "Oh? No witty retort to that one? Pity."


    Roy was grinning awkwardly, but said nothing. Behind Maya''s wing, Cara barely stifled a fit of giggles. Smiling gently, the old healer moved closer. "Why don''t you tell me what happened that led to your impromptu dive. Version one."


    "I was out for my morning fly, enjoying the sea breeze, like you do, when a massive soarwhale appeared out of nowhere! Blinked right on top of me!"Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "Oh no!" Maya said with an exaggerated gasp.


    "Oh yes! Right on top of me, and it opened its massive maw and gobbled me right up!"


    "Right up?"


    "Right up. But my feathers must have tickled it''s throat, because it shot me out straight through its blowhole. My wings were too covered in ambergris to fly and I crashed into the sea. Say, where is my ambergris anyhow?"


    "We had to wash it off to patch you up."


    "Pity, I was going to make you a perfume."


    "So thoughtful. Version two."


    "Gnolls."


    "Gnolls?"


    "Gnolls. Flying gnolls, with great shaggy wings. They were jealous of my eye-feathers -- they''re starting to come in now you see-- ow..--" he grumbled realizing he couldn''t move his wings with the restraint, let alone spread them.


    "Ah yes, I did see. Soon you''ll look like Lelucas Hightalon."


    "If I do, throw me back off the ledge."


    "I''ll make a note. Version three."


    "Bandits. No! Pirates. Sky pirates with a sleek, swift skiff."


    "Pirates?! Here?"


    "Oh yes. They stole the staff of the Grand Air Caller, right out from under her nose!"


    "Bah! And no one even bothered to tell me my staff was missing."


    "It''s all that buxom youth. It''s causing senility."


    Maya chuckled. "Apparently. Version four."


    Instead he shut his eyes tight for a long while. "...My head really hurts."


    "You were banged up pretty badly... Do you want to tell me what actually happened?"


    "Not particularly..."


    Her voice was gentle and coaxing, no longer playful. "Why don''t you try?"


    He avoided her gaze, instead focusing intently on the cat sprawled across his hand. "...I got in a fight."


    "That''s what it looked like. Who did you fight with?"


    "No one important," he snorted evasively.


    "Roy..."


    "What? I''m telling the truth, he''s not important at all. To anyone. Especially not here. He should be exiled, really."


    "Oh I agree. That was attempted murder. Just tell me his name and we''ll make sure he faces justice."


    The Peacock paled, stammering slightly, "I mean -- it wasn''t -- it was just an accident."


    "Was it a fight or was it an accident?"


    "I-I don''t know. I don''t know!" Panic was creeping into his voice. "Why are my wings tied??"


    "Calm down. You broke a wing and hurt your shoulder. We have it set but you can''t --"


    "I''m grounded!?"


    "Only temporarily, you need to calm down."


    "He tried to kick Rune, it''s not my fault!"


    "No one is blaming you, who tried to kick Rune?"


    "Jacob!" He spat, the name exploding out like a cork from a bottle. "It was Jacob. My father will kill me if he knew I fought with him, but he was angry and he threatened Rune and I punched him and -- oh he''s going to murder me! He will literally murder me. Just right in front of everyone, he''ll just call a Council of House Redquill -- NO!" He paused, eyes widening in horror. "No the whole city, oh by Imodai, he''s going to murder me publicly --"


    "Roy, calm down."


    "--or would that be considered an execution? What''s the difference between a public murder and an execution?"


    "I think the legality of it."


    "Cara, you''re not helping. Roy, you need to breathe, no one is going to execute you for throwing a punch."


    He was trying to sit up, but the pain and limited number of functioning limbs was hindering. "No, he is! You don''t get it, it was Jacob! His precious, do-no-wrong Jacob. The great flaming winged ass, Jacob, who could get away with anything he wanted!"


    "Even murder?" Maya asked, reaching to try and keep his flailing to a minimum.


    Something seemed to short-circuit in the boy''s mind and his eyes went wild. "You don''t get it, somehow he is going to turn this around to be my fault. That I antagonized him!"


    "Did you?"


    "Cara, quiet."


    "No! Well. Maybe-- but that''s not the point! I need to go, get this thing off me!"


    "That''s a break harness, it won''t come off until your wing is healed. And you need to lay down and recuperate, you''ve had a very traumatic--"


    "Let me GO!"


    "-- a very traumatic day and you need to rest-- Roy stop, you need to sit down it''s only going to make things worse" But he had somehow managed onto his knees and was negotiating the positioning of his legs to try and relieve himself of the table. One hand was fumbling at the straps to the harness that held his wings firmly in place. Maya gave a sigh of defeat.


    "Cara?"


    "Yes ma''am?"


    "Do you remember the charm you wanted more practice on?"


    "Yes ma''am?"


    "This is a wonderful opportunity."


    "Oh!" The girl moved past, avoided the cat who dove off of the table, and caught the boy''s face in her hands. Murmuring the sacred words, she closed her eyes and held him still. In an instant, his feral grimace relaxed and he stopped struggling, allowing her to guide him back down onto the table in a fog.


    "Very good, Cara. Just a little hysteria, nothing we can''t handle. He should be calmer soon."


    The apprentice looked up worriedly, her brow furrowed. "Is he okay, Maven Whisperwind?"


    "He''ll be fine, it''s not entirely unusual." Maya''s arms crossed over her chest, not entirely believing her own words. "Hopefully Master Engelbrecht will be back soon with more answers than we have questions..."

 Chapter 4 - Jacob

    Once again he found the echo of his boots to be a benchmark of his thoughts, but this time instead of gauging the height of his urgency, they taunted him with the one name that kept coming back to haunt him.


    Jay. Cob. Jay. Cob. Jay. Cob. Jay. Cob.


    Again, he found his inner dialog reminding him to only walk, though he desperately wanted to run. To fly. Let his fury carry him forward, but the remaining rational portion of his mind kept him in check. Stay calm. Don¡¯t go off the handle. Walk. Don¡¯t run. Walk. Don¡¯t fly. There must be a reasonable explanation for this. It must have just been an accident.


    An accident. His fists clenched so tightly at his sides that he felt the leather of his gloves strain at the knuckles. An accident. No. It wasn¡¯t an accident. It was bound to happen. His son and his nephew had never had much love for each other, and while neither of them were children any longer, they still also seemed incapable of acting like adults when it came to the other.


    Jay. Cob. Jay. Cob. Jay. Cob.


    If he was being honest, he had expected an incident to happen long before now. But again, if he was being honest, he had expected his nephew to be the one to remain mature. He knew that his son could be trying, by the void he would be the first to admit it! But to beat him and cast him over the edge to die?


    He heard a low growling and it was a moment before he realized it was coming from himself. Too far. It had all gone too far. And even at a walking pace, his trek had been too short to allow his anger to cool. The evening had faded into twilight, and he found himself staring at the door with the familiar Redquill insignia. Though the apartment wasn¡¯t his, it was nestled in the district where families under his House seemed to congregate. He stared at the crest for a long moment, willing himself to remain calm. An eagle, holding in one talon a fierce blade, and in the other a scroll. Strength and Knowledge. The tenants of his House. The tenants of his bloodline. Another low growl rose in his throat, but he forced it down.


    Stay calm. Stay professional. You are the Patriarch, your word is law. He raised his hand and rapped firmly on the door. Maybe a bit too firmly. The door opened quickly by a worried-looking servant girl. ¡°Where is he?¡± He snapped at her as if she were the intended target of his ire. She cringed and stammered, the sound of footsteps coming from deeper within the house.


    ¡°I-I-I¡¯m not sure who you mean, Master Engelbrecht. Would you like to come in and perhaps the Madam can-¡°


    ¡°Yes.¡± He cut her off, pushing past. He could hear his sister rushing to the front of the house, pushing her rich brown hair from her face, her expression concerned.


    ¡°Elias? What happened?¡±


    ¡°Where. Is. He.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re losing feathers, what happened?¡±


    ¡°That idiot boy of yours, where is he?¡±


    "Elly, calm down and tell me what''s going on"


    Elias bristled at the nickname. "Do not call me that, Helena." He could see the shadowy form of his nephew appear in the hallway, hanging back. "Your son killed my boy."


    He was surprised by the lie, but it had the intended effect. Both mother and son took a startled step backward, Helena''s wings spreading in shock. "H-he what!?" She gasped, her voice low and breathy.


    "The guards are on their way over now to serve justice," He continued, amazed at how easily false details came. "They will take him away in manacles to the Tower, where the punishment is execution." He glared down his nose at his sister, still not acknowledging the young man who hid in the shadows. "But... Since he is family, I can push for a lesser sentence. Perhaps they''ll only pinion him."


    Helena was crying now, whimpering under her breath prayers to Engraal, the Keeper of Souls. "Oh poor baby! The poor boy, he was still so young!" She mewled between prayers. Her hands found her brother''s vest and she drew herself into him. He enveloped her in his arms and realized that his hands were trembling.


    "Jacob. Come out here."


    There was a moment of hesitation and the young Eagleclan man stepped fully into the room. His wings were reddish brown like his mother''s, but his features were strong and blocky like his uncle. Like his father as well, Elias supposed, but there was no mistaking that the Redquill boy favored the Engelbretch side. He must have just gotten off of duty, because he was still mostly in his Skyguard armor. The cuirass was partially unstrapped and he was missing his boots and a gauntlet. Though he had seen almost two decades of summers, the bald fear on his face made him look like a terrified child.


    His fear brought Elias some relief, perhaps it had been an accident after all. "Well?" He snarled, rubbing his sister''s back comfortingly. "Look what you''re doing to your poor mother. What do you have to say for yourself?"


    "I.... I didn''t... He''s dead?" His knees started to weaken, but he placed a firm hand on the credenza and stayed upright. "It was an accident how did he--"


    "It looked like someone hit him with a sword and shoved him off of a spoke, Jacob." Elias snapped.


    "Why didn''t he fly??"


    "Because someone cracked his skull with a sword, boy! Shall we conduct an experiment and see how well you fly under the same conditions?"


    All the color drained from the young man''s face, then his eyes darkened and he straightened up stoically. "He wasn''t meant to fall, but arguing intentions will not bring him back. I submit to justice and will await the guards to take me into custody. Please... Please, Uncle... I might not have loved him, but I never meant for him to die."


    Elias sighed into Helena''s warm brown hair, watching Jacob with scrutiny. "The guards aren''t coming. He survived the fall, but only barely."


    "He''s alive?" His sister asked excitedly, pulling back and holding Elias at arm''s length. Suddenly her joy darkened as she realized the deception. "How dare you lie about that! Is he okay?"


    "No. He is decidedly not okay, but he is at least alive." He scowled at Jacob, who looked relieved and confused. "He fell into the ocean and only barely managed not to break his neck. The healers still have him, it will be a while before he recovers fully."Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    "At the healers? I have to go see him, make sure he''s okay, oh the poor boy!" But Elias caught her arm.


    "Helena, let them work, it''s been a long day. You can see him once he''s home." He turned back to Jacob, whose face had soured. "Senior Guardsman Shadowcaster said he saw the altercation. That you approached him and the fight broke out. ...By the Void, Jacob, I expect better from you. What happened?"


    "He stole from me. Again. A white marble soarwhale trinket given to me by someone special. Also his damned cat shat in one of my boots."


    "So you approached him and requested it back..." Elias coaxed.


    "And he said it wasn''t him. So we argued and his stupid cat started hissing at me. I... May have made a threat against her that he took offense to."


    "So you fought. When did your sword come out?"


    "The cat bit my arm. I was trying to knock her off but he moved to protect it and I caught him instead. He stumbled off the edge immediately after. I thought it was another act to get out of the fight."


    "And you didn''t think of alerting Falconwatch or making sure he even opened his wings?"


    "I meant to, but his cat was making life fairly difficult the moment he vanished over the edge." He rolled up his sleeves to show the multitude of angry red scratches. Elias was less than sympathetic.


    "So let me get this straight."


    "Yes, sir?"


    "Roy stole a trinket from you, so instead of lodging a complaint you took matters into your own hands."


    "I suppose so-"


    "You made a threat against his pet cat, who is by extension MY pet cat -"


    "- sir, I -"


    "And then against an unarmed combatant you drew your weapon because his small, nearly harmless, domesticated pet cat bit you."


    Jacob hung his head, but didn''t dare look away. His uncle was moving slowly closer, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.


    "I am extremely disappointed in you, Jacob. And let me make one thing abundantly, excessively, painfully clear to you. Are you listening?"


    Jacob''s voice broke as he replied. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yes, sir."


    Elias''s face was dangerously close to the young man''s. Jacob was finding it hard to maintain eye contact. "If you are slighted, you bring it to me," Elias growled. "And if you ever decide to take matters into your own hands again, I will not hesitate to take matters into mine. Am I understood?"


    "Yes sir..." Jacob replied, his voice barely over a whisper.


    There was a rush of air from the vacated space where Elias once stood. His nephew breathed in relief as Elias stalked to the door, pausing only long enough to allow their servant to pull it hastily open for him, before he grabbed the outer handle and slammed it shut.


    Once outside, his wings spread and he stepped off of the walkway, feeling the breeze beneath him as he flew through the wide alleys towards the temple again. The glow from the sconces made the painted window send dancing colors across the paths. He landed carefully, folding his wings behind him and let himself inside. The raven girl - Clara? Carla? - was coaxing a thick potion down his son''s throat. By the frequent grimaces he was pulling, it was quite bitter. But at least he was awake, though he looked as though he would much rather not be.


    Elias looked to the old healer, bent over a mortar and pestle. "What is the news?"


    "Everything has been set and braced, our biggest concern now is to fill him with potions and tonics to speed the healing and make sure he doesn''t rebreak anything. He may sleep a lot, that''s to be expected. The herbs for pain might make him groggy. But he won''t be able to use his left arm for at least two weeks, his wings even longer. You do realize this means his training for the Skyguard will have to be put on hold."


    Though he had expected no less, Elias still found himself clenching his jaw at the news. "I suppose you''re right. We''ll find him another path then. A scholar, perhaps." Strength and Knowledge. Skyguard and Scholars, the two professions that the Redquill excelled in. If he was unable to perform feats of strength, then of course he could put that cunning mind to use.


    "Or," Maya suggested in a cautious tone that Elias instantly distrusted. "You could let him train with the bards."


    "No."


    "He has a natural talent for it, Elias! A quick mind and a quicker wit, he could be famous!"


    "No. Not famous for being a clown."


    "Oh Elias, don''t be this way. A famous storyteller like the Elrian Blisback or Ceres O''daire or Vordaal Stormpint. The scholars might be the keepers of knowledge, but the bards are the ones who spread the seeds. Surely you don''t find those names dishonorable."


    He was loathe to admit he didn''t, the tales of the bards growing up were what made history lessons palatable. "No. House Redquill does not breed bards."


    Maya didn''t bother hiding the roll of her eyes as he stalked over to Roy and whatever-her-name-was. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"


    The Peacock choked down a thick mouthful and gave a shudder before looking up at his father. A twinge of fear flashed in the boy''s eyes before being instantly replaced with a grin. "Gnolls. With great, shaggy wings."


    "Do you think this is a joke?" Elias replied dangerously, feeling himself bristle again. "Was all of this some ploy for attention? An attempt to win the affections of this girl Clarissa by invoking sympathy?"


    "Cara," Cara corrected.


    "Stay out of this," he snapped at her, turning on his son again. He was pleased to see that the grin had vanished, replaced with a cringing sort of fear. "I''m asking you again. What. Happened."


    Blue eyes darted, looking for an escape, for aid, grossly aware that he was in no position to flee or even defend himself. "I-I got in a fight. Jacob was mad and he threatened Rune so I hit him and we fought and I fell off the spoke,"


    Elias straightened up, staring down at the cowering young man, but the voice from behind him almost gave him start.


    "How dare you?"


    He turned cautiously to the healer. "Excuse me?"


    "Does it make you feel powerful, coming in here and bullying my patient?"


    "He is MY son,"


    "And he is NOT your wife, so you would be wise to stop blaming him for her misgivings."


    "I am doing nothing of the sort!"


    "And if gnolls had wings they''d all be Aven. You used to be a man of respect, High Justice, but all I see right now is a stupid, fickle child bullying an injured boy. Stop blaming him for his mother''s crimes. He almost died today. You almost lost your only child today. Act like it."


    Elias gaped at her, but said nothing. The veil of anger and self-righteousness had been blown away by the elder''s hand, and instead of vindication, he felt shame knowing that Roy feared him so. "...I''m sorry," He said, directing the words to his son. He turned, moving with slow, calculated movements to take the seat beside the recovery table, acutely aware that Roy hadn''t dared blink, the intensity at which he watched his movements. "I''m sorry," he repeated quietly. "Jacob said you stole from him. Is that true?"


    "Yes. A trinket. I can give it back."


    Elias closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm and feeling another pang of shame in the difficulty. "We will do that when you''ve recovered. Maya, when can he come home?"


    "Check with me tomorrow. He could go tonight, but frankly your little outburst has me concerned. If his pain is managed and your sanity has returned, we will see." He could feel her eyes boring into the back of his skull. "...It''s rather late. I think it''s best if we all finish up for the evening."


    Elias stood, taking a moment to brush the tangled golden hair from Roy''s face, "I''m sorry... I know you''re not your mother. By Imodai if you don''t look like her though." He studied him for a long moment, relieved to see the fear replaced with curiosity. "Get some rest. I''ll come by in the morning."


    With that he left, slipping out the door that the healer held for him, disappearing into the night.

 Chapter 5 - Ghosts of the Past

    The night seemed to drag on for days. The silence in the Engelbrecht home was oppressive and heavy with the whispers of What If. What if Mollie had never left? What if Roy had really died today? Was this a glimpse of his future? A wide, silent apartment with too many rooms and not enough life? The servants had left for the evening, and there was no glow of candlelight under the door to his son''s room. There was no soft tinkle of Rune''s collar in the darkness. The reality weighed heavy on him like a coat of mud and he found himself wandering the halls when he should be sleeping.


    Again and again he found himself standing outside the door to his son¡¯s room, staring at the carved wood. At the worn brass knob, twisted to look like a stylized feather. At the notches in the doorframe that marked the boy¡¯s growth over the years that had passed. Elias stood, straining, as if he could convince his ears that he could hear the soft snoring on the other side. Or the scratch of a quill on parchment. He closed his eyes and imagined he could see the warmth of a candle flickering from behind his lids. But no matter how close he was to convincing himself, when he opened his eyes there was only the cool, silent blackness. Again the reality washed over him. This emptiness could be permanent. Maya¡¯s words rattled him. You almost lost your child today. Act like it.


    Shaking his head, he closed his fingers around the cool brass and tried the door. It was unlocked, as was typical. He leaned against it, letting his weight push it open. The bedroom was a bit cluttered, but otherwise clean. On the desk was a pile of shed feathers and a small knife, waiting their turn to be fashioned into quills. A jar of ink stood neatly capped next to a stack of leather-bound books. Half-spent candles sat cold and silent. And the marble soarwhale figurine sat proudly in the center of it all.


    Elias narrowed his eyes, then threw his head back, shattering the silence with a deep laugh that bordered on hysterical. Of course. Of course that Imodai-forsaken bauble that that set all this off in the first place was right there, as if in a place of honor. The ridiculousness of it all, of the situation, of the contrast, of its stupid exaggerated smile! He laughed, riding the surge of relief, feeling the twinge of something akin to insanity and as he moved to sit down on the edge of the curved, nest-like bed, he felt hot tears streaming down his face. His hands were shaking, his chest heaving but no longer with mirth. The harder Elias struggled to collect himself, the more confused and twisted his emotions became. Fear. Joy. Panic. Rage. All muddled together, all twisted and wrapped up in the other until they were all one sensation.


    He pushed himself to his feet and stomped from the room, batting the wetness angrily from his cheeks as if his own eyes had betrayed him. ¡°This is all your fault,¡± he snarled to his unseen phantoms. Out of the bedroom, into the hall, down, a hard left, throwing the door open noisily as if to burst in on the target of his ire. The room was dark and empty though. In his home office the heavy desk was prominent, covered in scrolls and books with important looking covers. But he ignored it, going instead past his high-backed chair, past his cellarette and the exotic potted trees that the servants somehow managed to keep alive. He strode past them all, ripping a curtain off of the wall. Behind it was a beautiful portrait, done years ago when he was young and didn¡¯t know any better.


    When he was happy.


    He stared at the painting, the image of himself standing beside and slightly behind the beautiful woman in his very own high-backed chair. Even in the dark gloom of the office the blue of her wings seemed to glimmer. Her hair flowed like golden ripples down her shoulders in a thick mane, her eyes the color of the sea at noon. The hand of his younger self was held gently in both of hers, the flush of youth in his cheeks and a vibrant smile that reflected in his eyes.


    The angry glare locked onto her unblinking one for a long moment, before he turned back and stomped to his cellarette, roughly pulling open the lovely stained glass lid and slamming out a cut crystal glass and a matching decanter of whiskey. His hands were steady as he filled the glass, considered the level, then filled it higher. Picking up both vessels, he moved heavily to his chair, banged the decanter on the side table and threw himself down heavily. For a moment he could feel her residual warmth on it. He thought he felt a tickle of one of her shed feathers.


    Furiously he gulped down the contents of the snifter, banged it back onto the table again and refilled it. ¡°This is all your fault,¡± he snarled at the portrait. ¡°You weren¡¯t happy just giving him your looks, were you?¡± The woman in the painting smiled at him with her serene joy. She was peaceful and warm, giddy with young love. He took a long drink from his glass and snarled loudly. There was no one to hear his rage. No one to respond. Only the memories and the image of what once was.


    ¡°Answer me!¡± He yelled. Only his own dim echo called back. Elias scowled at the painting, the flush of alcohol rising in his cheeks and the slickness of his wings against the upholstery causing him to slide lower in the chair. ¡°He almost died. And I would have lost you both. But that¡¯s what you wanted, isn¡¯t it? He¡¯s just like you¡­¡± He growled again, draining the last of his glass and pouring another. His hands were less steady now, the whiskey missed and splashed onto the floor. The second try was more successful, and he was more careful with his sips.


    There would be no answer, he knew. And as therapeutic as it felt to yell at ghosts, it was never something he could sustain for long. Soon, like tonight, the dark thoughts took over, swirling around endlessly, cannibalizing each other and turning into beasts that snarled and roared from every dark corner. Tonight, as any other night, he picked up his weapon of choice, and eyes locked defiantly with the eyes of his lost wife, he set out to drown them.


    Elias didn¡¯t hear the front door open the next morning, nor did he hear his servants enter to begin their daily tasks. He did not notice when the young maid cleaned up the spilled alcohol from the floor and from the side table. He put up no resistance when she rescued the glass that was dangling precariously from his fingertips as he slumped in the chair, snoring. The smell of cooking meat filled the apartment, but he still did not stir.Stolen story; please report.


    Helena rapped quickly on the front door, waited a moment, then rapped again. It opened a crack, just enough for the maid to peek through. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ma¡¯am, but Master Engelbrecht is not accepting visitors at the moment.¡±


    Helena smiled gently, but there was something sharp in her eyes. She was on a mission. ¡°Oh nonsense, he¡¯ll accept me,¡± she replied, pressing her hand against the door. The servant pressed back.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ma¡¯am, truly, but the Master is ill¡ª¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he is. Step aside now, child.¡± With a forceful push, the woman stepped inside, moving out of the way so that the door could be closed behind her. She scrutinized the interior hallway for a moment before continuing forward. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t see anything broken, so I suppose that¡¯s progress.¡±


    ¡°Please, I must insist, he¡¯s not well!¡± The girl begged in a whisper, following Lady Redquill deeper inside.


    ¡°Oh I¡¯m sure he¡¯s not, and he¡¯s about to become a measure less well.¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am please, you must keep your voice down. You must come back later!¡±


    ¡°No, darling, I don¡¯t think I will.¡± Helena replied absently, opening the door to her brother¡¯s bedroom and finding it empty. ¡°To either notion,¡± she clarified before turning to glance at the girl. ¡°Office?¡±


    The maid¡¯s brown wings drooped slightly with defeat. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. He¡¯ll generally wake on his own in an hour or so¡­¡±


    Helena gently pushed the door to the office open further, leaning against the frame as she watched her brother¡¯s form, slumped sideways in his high-backed chair. Her eyes ran over the decanter on the cellarette and clicked her tongue. ¡°Empty. That was a new bottle and you didn¡¯t even savor it,¡± she scolded to the unconscious man. He responded with a snore.


    ¡°Well if that¡¯s how you¡¯re going to be about it¡­¡± She strode past him, her heeled boots clicking loudly against the stone as she crossed the room to the windows, throwing the curtains wide. The sunlight poured in, and while Elias winced, he did not rouse. Helena frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, disappointed at the lack of reaction.


    ¡°Elias, wake up.¡± She commanded. The man didn¡¯t move. ¡°Elias, you were supposed to be at the healer¡¯s two hours ago, wake up.¡±


    Nothing. Two faces watched her, peeking around the doorframe. The young Eagle girl from earlier, as well as a boy whose wings she couldn¡¯t see. They stared at her in awe and concern, each with their bodies hidden in the hallway as if her brother were a bomb and they wished to dodge the shrapnel. The way they were staring at her, she half expected them to make the sign of Engraal.


    ¡°So dramatic,¡± she murmured. ¡°Enough is enough. Wake UP!¡± Her hand darted out with a well-practiced grace, catching her brother by the ear. At first nothing happened, but with a sharp twist and a dig of her nails, his eyes shot open and he let out a panicked yowl of pain. His first instinct was to pull away, but her grip remained firm and he only managed to cause more discomfort for himself.


    ¡°Are you awake now?¡±


    ¡°Imodai slay you, woman! What do you think you¡¯re doing?!¡±


    Helena held fast, raising a brow at him as he tried to grip her wrist. She twisted a little more, immediately dropping him out of the chair and to his knees. ¡°Invoking the name of Imodai, are we? You¡¯d be better off calling to Allynera, with as big of a child as you¡¯re being.¡± She smirked a little. It wasn¡¯t often that her powerful brother was so humbled. ¡°She¡¯d probably make you her champion,¡± she teased.


    His eyes were angry, bloodshot and squinting, but he seemed more focused on relieving the pressure on his ear than any sort of retaliation. The two youths watched from the door in unblinking amazement, as if she had subdued a manticore single handedly, instead of just an aging, hung over High Justice. Look well, children, she thought to herself. For he too, is only Aven.


    Helena released him then and stepped away, Elias¡¯ hand immediately going over his sore ear, squinting against an impressive headache. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± He rasped. She couldn¡¯t tell if the snarl was malice or simply residual effects of interrupted sleep and a rocky night.


    ¡°You were supposed to be at the healer¡¯s two hours ago. Get yourself cleaned and let¡¯s go.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t just barge into my house and presume to tell me what to do. I am no fledgling child and you are certainly not our mother.¡±


    ¡°You are right on one count, I am not Mother. You will find that I am far less patient a woman. As for the intrusion, consider it payback for your bluster yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Leave now or I¡¯ll call the guard. They¡¯ll take you away for trespassing.¡±


    Helena¡¯s brows shot up. ¡°Trespassing? Go ahead then. Call the guard. But you had best be prepared to add domestic violence to that charge,¡± She threatened. ¡°And you¡¯d better hope they get here quickly.¡±


    Elias squinted at her through the throbbing pain, debating on the merits of continuing this battle. Though part of him wished nothing more than to force her to see the error of her ways and the righteousness of his own, there was a beast attempting to claw and thrash its way out of his skull. He let the matter drop.


    Moving past her, he stepped towards the door, the two servants moving out of the way, but continuing to stare at him in awe. ¡°How is the boy?¡± He asked, ignoring them.


    ¡°In good spirits, keeping them entertained. He asked me to bring some oil to repair the damage to his feathers.¡±


    Elias turned to gesture to a door down the hall. ¡°That¡¯s the washroom he uses, he has more preening tools than I can even recognize, take what you need. I¡¯m going to wash up.¡± He turned away again to head towards his room.


    ¡°Have you decided what you¡¯re going to do with him?¡±


    ¡°Well I plan to keep him on the City and not have him falling off any more spokes if that¡¯s what you¡¯re asking.¡±


    ¡°Is he able to continue pursuing a position in the Skyguard?¡±


    ¡°Not likely, as I¡¯m sure Jacob would be elated to hear. I¡¯ll set him up with the Scholars in the library.¡±


    ¡°Or¡­?¡±


    ¡°There is no ¡®or¡¯,¡± Elias snarled, bristling, then wincing at the effort. ¡°Do not finish that statement. Get what you need and I¡¯ll be out momentarily.¡±


    He could hear her beginning to speak again, and fearing another argument, quickly slipped into his room, closing the heavy door behind him. He leaned on the frame and let out a low sigh through his nose. His head ached viciously and it was becoming harder to concentrate, let alone defend his convictions. After a pause, he reached down and locked the door.

 Chapter 6 - Stories We Tell

    ¡®Galen accepted the coins, counting them quickly in his palm and turning his back on the young woman who was still continuing her tireless sermon of gratitude. His hand rose, a swish of his fingers and the door slammed firmly in the customer¡¯s face. It wasn¡¯t that the mage didn¡¯t appreciate the business. After all, it was the gold from the patrons of the city that kept him in meat and bread. Farmers, merchants and craftsmen, living simple lives that could be brought such simple excitement from a simple potion or enchanted bauble. It gave their lives meaning, and at some point he supposed it gave his as well.


    But Galen was not a simple man, and as each year passed, it took more and more to bring meaning to his life. Every ounce of gold he earned went toward keeping up with his hobby, but as he looked around his tower, he felt a weak flicker of joy in his heart. He had hired the skills of passing druids, using their magics to cover his floors and walls with dense green. He¡¯d spent endless nights enchanting his tomes to protect them from the nibbles of the mice that would inevitably escape their enclosures and from the persistent damp that only affected his chambers, even while the farmlands outside went dry. In the end though, it was worth every hour, every copper piece as long as it meant his collection was safe.


    No. More than safe. Comfortable. Secure. Perfect. Protected.


    Among the vines that now crawled up his bookshelves, a pair of eyes glistened at him, cold and unblinking. ¡°You¡¯re active today,¡± he said, a note of affection in his voice as he crossed over the moss that grew on the flagstone floor. ¡°Are you hungry?¡±


    The snake slowly, methodically, uncoiled itself from the vine, stretching out its powerful neck and flitting its tongue against his waiting hand. There was nothing magical about this reptile, nor any of the reptiles he cared for. There didn¡¯t have to be. They were simply elegant and misunderstood, much as Galen saw himself. The snakes were not as affectionate as a dog or a cat. They were not useful in the traditional sense, as was a hawk or a horse. But they needed him and relied on him. Compared to the lush jungle he had created inside his tower, the dusty streets of the city and the farmlands beyond were as dry desert to the animals in his care. He had created an oasis just for them. And in return, they made his simple life less simple.


    He was deep in thought, caressing the reptile¡¯s smooth skin when a knock on the door startled him. Galen turned in annoyance, stalking past ropy vines, past the strange lizards that changed colors, past the tiny brown snakes that held very still and pretended to be branches. He came to the door and opened it again, looking out over the small town, and then turning his gaze downward to his guest. A pair of young boys held up a chirping box, trying to peek around his legs at the mysteries beyond.


    ¡°We caught a whole bunch today! It¡¯s gotta be a dozen, maybe two!¡± The boy said eagerly. Galen picked up the small parcel and lifted the lid, seeing far more than a dozen crickets and grasshoppers, but their inability to count was not his concern. ¡°Can we pet her?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Galen blinked, then realized that a snake was draped lazily over his shoulders. ¡°Yes but be gentle,¡± he said, allowing the boys to come close enough to touch the creature''s head. The python accepted the attention placidly. ¡°And remember don¡¯t go trying to touch wild snakes. Gertude has no venom, she squeezes the life from her prey. The ones you find on your own may not be quite as obliging.¡±


    ¡°How come she doesn¡¯t squish you then?¡±


    The mage chuckled. ¡°Because I¡¯m much bigger and scarier than she is.¡±


    ¡°The caravan man¡¯s snake could squish you! I bet it could squish even Stampy the ox!¡±


    Galen¡¯s eyes narrowed and he straightened, drawing his precious constrictor from their reach. ¡°What ¡®caravan man¡¯? What are you talking about?¡±


    In unison, both boys turned and pointed out beyond the borders of the town. Over the rooftops, he could see the colorful flags flying and hear the hint of music on the wind. His sour frown deepened.


    Paying the boys a silver to split between them for the food for his pets, he slipped inside again. A moment later he was descending the stairs to his tower, dressed in his most regal robes and holding his impressive staff.


    On the far side of the houses, the smell of sweet incense filled the air, the sound of music grew stronger. Dancers frollicked and played for the amusement of the crowd, their bells and bright colors a stark contrast against that of the farmers. Children ran and played, groups sang and drank and danced, even though the day was still young. But it was the wagon that sat alone from the group, wafting perfumed smoke into the crowd that caught his interest. A sign out front advertised exotic creatures on the side in various languages.


    As Galen approached, the owner of the show stepped out. He was covered in colorful scarves from head to toe, so many that only his golden eyes glittered out at the mage. Over his shoulders was a massive reptile. The weight would bow the back of a lesser man and the sheer size put his prized Gertrude to shame. Its forked tongue was the width of his finger.


    ¡°By the gods, is that a morass python?¡± He asked, moving closer.


    ¡°Ahhh, you have a good eye my friend,¡± the Caravan Man said, his Common heavily accented. ¡°He was taken as an egg from the Neglected Basin.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a bit of a collector myself,¡± Galen said, a note of pride in his voice.


    ¡°Oh? Then you must come inside. Perhaps I can entice you with the secrets of Taralensia,¡± the strange man purred, turning and moving inside without waiting for a reply.


    Galen hesitated only a moment, before he too entered the small building. Inside the sweet perfumy smoke was dense, intoxicating. Through the haze he could see cages lining the wall, each holding a different exotic creature. Small gliding lizards with brightly colored membranes -- he already had one of those. Color changing creatures with bulbous eyes that always pointed in different directions. Galen had a breeding pair at home. Snakes of every color and pattern imaginable. But still he frowned.


    ¡°My friend, you seem disappointed,¡± the man wrapped in scarves said. ¡°Are you not impressed? Do these treasures not interest you?¡±


    ¡°While your treasures are indeed impressive¡­¡± He began, trailing off.


    ¡°Ahhhh¡­ Say no more. I see now that you are indeed a true collector. You will not be satisfied by anything less than the most exquisite, most rare of creatures. I think I have just the thing for you.¡±


    Galen¡¯s brow perked with intrigue and moved to follow him. He didn¡¯t recall the wagon being this big from the outside. Certainly not large enough for the second room they found themselves in. It was darker in here, the smoke thicker and sweeter. Colorful scarves hung from the ceiling, and Galen found himself getting lost, even though he must only be a few feet away from the Caravan Man. Finally he pushed through a curtain, only to be stopped by a hand blocking his chest.


    ¡°This specimen is very rare. Her species is only found in the caverns of the Dragonspine Mountains. Rather small, very shy you see. But what makes her even more spectacular¡­¡±


    With a dramatic flair, the Caravan Man drew a final curtain back and revealed a circle of silken cushions, upon which the incense censure sat. And beside it, sitting with the eternal alert patience he had come to recognize in the rest of his collection was something that looked not like a snake or a lizard or in fact any creature he had seen before.


    It was a woman.


    Porcelain white skin, with hair the color of starlight, she sat with hands folded on the cushions. Across her eyes was an ornately decorated scarf. Her head turned slowly in his direction.


    ¡°Beautiful, is she not? An albino, so rare in any species, but in a creature such as her...¡±


    Galen found himself backing away. ¡°How dare you!! I don¡¯t know what you think I meant, but I collect animals, not people! I am no slaver! I will take no sentient creature!¡± His head felt fuzzy, he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Turning, he rushed back the way he had come, batting curtain after curtain aside, stumbling through the smoke until --


    -- He found himself standing beside the Caravan Man again, with the creature in front of him.


    Galen looked around in confusion. He was certain he had been moving towards the exit. The wagon was not circular, this was not possible. The man was moving forward, the strange creature slowly turned her head as if to watch him, and he drew back one of the curtains that had fallen across her lap.


    ¡°Be calm, my friend. I think perhaps you are confused. I assure you, she is a lizard.¡±


    Where legs should be was a long, thick tail, coiling around the cushion, scales shining pearlescent in the dim --¡¯


    Cara frowned, looking at the bottom of the torn page. Where was the rest?? Moving as quietly as possible, she started going through the gear they had taken off the boy again. Some quill nibs, a small knife, some waterlogged bread and meats, but no papers. It was amazing that this one had even managed to survive, but in Avenholme waterproofing enchantments were common and inexpensive. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    The girl glanced over her shoulder at Roy, who was asleep again, arm slung and wing set. Empty potion bottles sat on the table beside him, ready to be replaced with fresh ones. In a minute. She carefully folded and replaced the items and looked around. On the floor next to his soggy boots was his belt with an intricately decorated scroll case on either side. From the top of each case was a handle. She¡¯d never seen a design quite like that before, but if he was going to keep writing protected, then where else would he put it?


    Rune¡¯s green eyes watched as the girl slowly, quietly, moved to where they lay. She picked one up, clasped the handle and gently pulled. Nothing. Frowning, she pulled harder. It didn¡¯t budge. Maybe it was enchanted? Or maybe it was mechanical. The decorations down the side must be some sort of coding. Or a puzzle! Her feathers ruffled in glee as she carefully felt over every ridge and curve, hunting for a clue.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t your mother ever teach you not to play with a man¡¯s scroll?¡±


    Cara dropped the belt and leapt away, her face going instantly hot.


    ¡°And while he¡¯s sleeping too. Have you no shame?¡± Roy was grinning at her groggily from the bed. With his uninjured hand, he reached for the belt from her. Still blushing fiercely, she obliged. But instead of showing her the secrets within, he shifted it against his side, protected between his body and his wing.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, ¡°But¡­ well, I was hoping it had the rest of your story in it.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t,¡± he replied, rubbing his eyes, then wincing. As expected, the bruise had matured overnight, his eye swollen and tender. Above his brow was a v-shaped cut. Cara frowned, realizing the scar would be a permanent reminder of the lost duel.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t get it open. Is it a puzzle or a lock? How is it sealed?¡±


    ¡°Magic,¡± he answered, flat and unconvincing. ¡°You Ravens, too curious for your own good.¡±


    At first she drew away, injured, but he winked at her and offered an amicable grin. ¡°Let me have this secret, aye? It would be no fun if you knew all my tricks.¡±


    This seemed to satisfy the girl and she let out a soft giggle, her brown eyes glittering. Roy shifted to sit up, digging his heels into the padding to push himself towards the head of the bed. On the cabinet, Rune gave a delighted purr and leapt down towards the bed. She fell for a moment, but after a heartbeat the enchantment in her collar activated and her descent slowed, drifting lazily onto the mattress. Once landed, she bounded forward and jumped onto her master¡¯s abdomen.


    ¡°Aww, Rune did you miss me-- ow ow you¡¯re standing on my bladder.¡± the Peacock awkwardly looped an arm around the cat and pulled her closer to his chest. Continuing to purr, the little calico started kneading eagerly against his ribs. ¡°How long was I out?¡±


    ¡°A few hours. It¡¯s a side effect of the potions, but the more you sleep now, the less time it¡¯ll take you to heal later.¡± He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, playing with the animal¡¯s fur. ¡°How do you feel?¡±


    ¡°Better than yesterday. But still like I was shot out of a cannon and into the side of an airship. And through the bow. And probably into a crewman or five.¡±


    ¡°That good huh?¡±


    He grinned wider at her, ¡°Oh yes, I highly recommend it.¡± He caught her gaze with his stormy blue eyes, and with a giggle she turned away again. When she looked back, he was frowning at something among the empty potion bottles.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± As if on command, Rune leapt up and trotted across the mattress to the table, picking up a feather and bringing it back to her owner. It was mostly black with speckles of brown and a white tip. And it was long. Very long.


    ¡°Oh! You had visitors, I almost forgot. Velius Shadowcaster came to check on you, but you were sleeping. He left that, saying he was repaying you for something?¡±


    Roy narrowed his eyes in thought, then burst out laughing, wincing in pain and reaching for his bruised ribs. ¡°By the Divines¡­ I think this is the big lunk¡¯s idea of a joke. A few weeks ago he needed a quill, so I cut him one from my wing. I do it all the time, it¡¯s nothing. He kept insisting that he would repay me, but this --¡± he gave the feather a swish. It was longer than his entire arm, and when he mimed writing with it, the white tip waggled enthusiastically. Rune rose back on her haunches to bat at it. ¡°Can you imagine?¡±


    ¡°You should use it anyhow! It would be funny!¡±


    Roy snickered and moved to lay it back on the table, out of the way of the feisty cat. ¡°Aye. You said there were others?¡±


    ¡°Your aunt came by, you were a little lucid and kept worrying about your feathers,¡± Now it was his turn to flush with embarrassment. ¡°And Valentin Widowmourne came with a message from his mother. She says to come by as soon as you¡¯re feeling better, she¡¯s made cookies for you. That was sweet of her!¡±


    There was a flicker of concern across the man¡¯s eyes at the mention of Maven Widowmourne, but it was hidden almost immediately behind another charming smile. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to bring some for you in exchange for all your hard work. Without you¡­¡± He laid back dramatically, ¡°I¡¯d be sunk at the bottom of the ocean, food for some hungry fish. Or a waterbound soarwhale.¡±


    Cara giggled. ¡°You mean a normal whale?¡±


    He gave an exaggerated sigh, looking at her wistfully. ¡°Selfless and intelligent. And yet you stay cooped up here in this temple.¡± Cara swooned, then startled as a hand came to rest on her shoulder.


    ¡°Alright, Peacock, rein in the charm. You¡¯re going to put the poor girl into a tizzy.¡± Maya teased, letting the embarrassed Cara slip off to replace the potion bottles. ¡°I take it that means you¡¯re feeling better?¡±


    ¡°My darling Air Caller, is that jealousy I hear in your voice?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a yes. Let me see that eye of yours,¡± the Owl crossed around to his other side, taking his face in her hands to examine the bruise. The white of the injured eye was completely bloodshot into an almost uniform red, making the blue of the irises stand out in unnerving contrast. The bruise began over the cut and spread down nearly to his cheekbone.


    ¡°You know I only have eyes for you, Madam Whisperwind. Youth could never compete with experience.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯ll have a nice battle scar.¡±


    ¡°I would suffer a thousand falls for a single word from your lips,¡±


    ¡°Enough. We all know you¡¯re the king of charm, but it¡¯s time to turn it off.¡±


    ¡°You know, they say that ¡®Roy¡¯ means King in the Human tongue.¡±


    ¡°Oh the ¡®Human tongue¡¯, eh? You mean Common? The tongue we¡¯re speaking right now?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very similar yes, but with one crucial difference.¡±


    Maya waited for him to continue on his own, but he simply grinned at her, patiently waiting. She sighed reluctantly. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll bite. What¡¯s the difference?¡±


    ¡°Aven speak with a higher inflection. Get it? Higher? Because we fly?¡±


    ¡°That was terrible. Move to your hip, let me see your wing.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t wait to get your hands on me, eh? A defenseless younger man--¡±


    ¡°Roy. Enough. What¡¯s got you so nervous that you can¡¯t turn it off?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± he muttered unconvincingly, but gradually the manic brightness faded, leaving behind a subdued sort of calm. She gently unhooked the break harness and carefully extended his damaged wing. He hissed softly in pain as she ran her hands over the top of the bone. The feathers, though still mussed from the salt water and in need of preening were a gorgeous iridescent blue, and when fully extended the green and gold eye feathers glittered along the bottom ridge.


    ¡°You¡¯re healing nicely. In a few more days you can try to fly again. Only short bursts, across walkways and the like. If it starts to hurt, don¡¯t push yourself. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± He grunted again softly as she carefully refolded his wing and strapped it back into the harness. From the main room came a crash, causing him to open both wings in a panic, crying out in pain.


    ¡°Easy now, easy -- Cara? What¡¯s going on out there?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re fine, Maya!¡± called a different voice. ¡°My brother is just-- For Imodai¡¯s sake, Elias, stop being a child, you did this to yourself.¡±


    Cara rushed into the room, her wings held tight against her back and an armful of full potion bottles clutched to her chest. Immediately behind her came the High Justice, one eye tightly shut against the light, the other barely open in a squint, his face pulled into a grimace. ¡°By the Divines woman, just let me buy a tonic to rid me of this blasted headache. Come here, Corina,¡±


    ¡°Cara!¡± Cara corrected.


    ¡°Whatever, come take this pretty gold piece and give me one of those bottles.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Helena yelled, and suddenly the small room became very crowded. ¡°He¡¯s learning an important lesson, don¡¯t give him one!¡±


    Maya rolled her eyes and carefully rebound the wing, checking to make sure it hadn¡¯t exacerbated the injury with the little jolt. ¡°Cara, when you¡¯re done playing I could use one of those.¡±


    Helena had grabbed her brother by the wings and was trying to pull him backwards, but the man was stronger and determined to get to one of the bottles. He dragged her forward a few paces, snatching one from Cara and pulling the cork out. Helena rushed to grab his arm, but he planted his large palm firmly on her face and held his sibling back as he took a mighty gulp. In only a moment, his grimace relaxed and his eyes focused properly in the daylight. Victorious, he released Helena, who scowled at him and crossed her arms.


    ¡°You deserved every minute of that, you know.¡± She grumbled.


    Elias just smirked. ¡°Do you mind, dear sister? I¡¯m here to see my son.¡± Not taking his eyes from her, he handed Roy the other half of the bottle. The boy took it and settled back into a comfortable position on the bed.


    The man turned then, ignoring his sister to look his son over. ¡°That is a hell of a bruise. How¡¯s the head?¡±


    ¡°Better. I¡¯ll be happier when I can fly again.¡±


    ¡°Well let¡¯s focus on getting you well enough to leave the hospital bed first, mm? Drink it.¡±


    Roy obeyed, grimacing at the bitter taste as his father turned to address the healer. His aunt moved to his good side, stretching out his uninjured wing to begin working on his feathers for him.


    ¡°When can he come home, Madam Whisperwind?¡± Elias asked, careful to keep his tone light and polite.


    ¡°You seem to have your head about you better today, Engelbrecht. He can go home this afternoon, but it will be a bit before he¡¯s back fully on his feet. I recommend he take it easy and sleep as much as possible to allow the potions to work.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Your work is commendable, Grand Air Caller. Thank you for saving my boy.¡± He bowed low, bending at the waist and dipping his wings. The healer waved at him dismissively.


    ¡°I do enjoy your improved attitude, but there is no need to thank me. The Winds chose to save him, I am merely their vessel.¡±


    She continued to speak, but Roy felt his eyes begin to swim in their sockets again. The feel of Helena¡¯s fingers working on his wing was soothing, the calm, strong voice of his father was comforting, and he leaned back to rest his eyes. Only for a moment.

 Chapter 7 - Fledgling

    He woke with a snort and a start, jarring himself. His shoulder was sore and his wing was a dull, throbbing ache, but the pain in his face and ribs was starting to subside. From the corner of his eye he could see movement and a table littered with potion bottles, both full and empty. Roy opened his mouth to call out, turned to find the keeper, but the motion made his head swim and he was dragged back into the comfortable blackness.


    A voice came as if from underwater, and he tried to swim to it. His muscles wouldn¡¯t cooperate, his lungs would only breathe deep and slow. He tried to speak, to call to the voice, but all he could manage was a weak whimper in his chest, followed by a breathy sigh.


    ¡°Oh! Is he waking up again?¡± The voice was bright and sweet. Cara? Maybe.


    ¡°Likely just dreaming,¡± And that was Maya. Maya! Maya would know what to do!


    Roy struggled to open his eyes, but they blurred and swam and rolled shut. His arm was heavy and wouldn¡¯t respond as he tried to lift it. Maya! Maya please help me, I can¡¯t move! Maya!


    ¡°Hhhhaya¡­¡± he heard himself mewl.


    ¡°Easy now, boy. Can¡¯t have you squirming around mucking up that wing of yours. It¡¯s difficult enough to heal a flight bone properly.¡±


    ¡°Nnnner¡­.¡± No, you don¡¯t understand, I can¡¯t move!


    ¡°Cara, send a note to Lord Engelbrecht, he can take him home next time he¡¯s conscious.¡±


    He felt himself sinking and clawed desperately for something -- anything! But the thick, gelatinous blackness consumed him again.


    Someone was petting his hair and singing softly. He groggily opened his eyes and saw flecks of blue and green light dancing. A woman was sitting near his head, singing a tune he recognized but words he couldn¡¯t make out. Her hand was gentle and soft, he turned his face towards it gently. Mother? You¡¯ve come back??


    ¡°Muh¡­¡± Roy managed to get out, his breath giving up before he was able to complete the word. The hand paused, then gently continued stroking him. He forced his eyes open, and though they swam, he was able to focus for a moment. Above him was the seaglass suncatcher he had made ages ago. He was home? But when had he been awake? He shifted his head up to the source of the voice. Helena smiled down at him, continuing her soft song. It sounded like a lullaby. There was a guilty wave of disappointment that tinged the comfort. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy her touch.


    The scent of sweet smoke tickled his nose. He stirred again, and this time found himself able to roll onto his side with relative ease. His eyelids were heavy, but obeyed as he tried to open them. The suncatcher no longer glittered, instead the room was lit by candles. Across from him on his desk he saw two empty plates. Had he been awake to eat? He didn¡¯t feel hungry, but he couldn¡¯t remember a thing.


    Sitting next to the desk, chair turned to face him, Elias was reading a scroll. By the markings and the seal, Roy assumed it was court documents of some sort. Rune was sprawled on her back across Elias¡¯ lap, demonstrating the strange liquid relaxation that only felines were capable of. A wooden pipe hung lazily from Elias¡¯ mouth, held loosely between his teeth. The scent of sweet tobacco filled the room. The man moved with the slow caution of someone trying not to make a sound. When Roy turned over, Elias¡¯ brown eyes studied him, trying to determine if he was truly waking or simply stirring again.


    The scent was familiar and welcoming, warm and slightly spicy. It reminded him of something he couldn¡¯t quite place. Of something foreign and exotic, and--


    ¡°Caravan man¡­¡± he heard himself murmur. Elias tilted his head in confused amusement, a faint smile on his lips. Roy simply shifted into a more comfortable position and let himself drift yet again.


    The next time he opened his eyes, it was daylight again. He stretched his legs, muscles sore. He twisted his shoulders to ease his back. Everything was stiff, but the pain was almost gone. Sitting up slowly, he yawned and stretched his arms above his head, realizing that his shoulder no longer hurt. Cautiously he spread his wings, but instead of sharp pain, there was only a dull ache, slight enough to be ignorable. He stretched them as wide as they would go and gave a few cautious pumps, stretching out the muscles in his back.


    As he folded them again, he looked around, waiting for the next surge of sleepiness to claim him. It didn¡¯t. How long had he been out? A day? A week? How long had he spent in that potion-induced coma? He wanted to feel annoyed, but found it took too much energy. Instead, he simply stood, testing his balance. He was wobbly, but the strength came back quickly. Little by little he made his way around the room. Straightening the chair his father had left, changing into fresh clothes, hunting for his boots.


    Once certain he wasn¡¯t going to succumb to unconsciousness again, he gave a final stretch, slipped on his belt and left his room. The twin scroll cases bobbed against his hips as he turned to quietly shut his door behind him.


    ¡°You¡¯re awake!¡± Came a gleeful shout that made him jump. Before he could turn he was caught in a tight embrace, and looked down in time to see brown wings and a beaming young face.


    ¡°Maribel!¡± He exclaimed, pulling his arms free to return the servant girl¡¯s hug. ¡°Was I out that long? It feels like ages.¡±


    ¡°Three days!¡± She gasped, dropping her voice to a loud whisper. ¡°The Master hasn¡¯t left the apartment, he¡¯s been either in your room or in his office -- drinking.¡±


    He shushed her lightly, glancing down the hall at the sound of boots. Elias strode into view and broke into a smile. ¡°Ah! You are awake, I thought I was hearing things again.¡±


    Roy returned the smile, but it faltered at the scent of alcohol and pipe tobacco. His father held a potion bottle in one hand, filled with familiar thick liquid. ¡°Is that one of mine?¡± Roy asked, trying and failing to keep an accusing note out of his voice.


    Elias¡¯ expression darkened, and Maribel hurried away to some unknown task, sending worried glances over her shoulder. ¡°And what if it is? Would you prefer to spend another half-day unconscious?¡±


    Roy held his ground and turned to face him. ¡°I¡¯d prefer to be confident that my wing isn¡¯t going to snap when I test it merely because you wanted relief from your overindulgence.¡± It was risky. Dangerous to call his father out, especially with the smell of whiskey hanging around him. The older man¡¯s eyes hardened, Roy could see the muscles in his jaw tighten, hear the grind of his molars. But still he stood his ground, even as the heat rose in his cheeks. After what felt like an eternity, Elias let out a sigh through his nose like steam venting from an engine. The muscles in his shoulders and wings relaxed.


    ¡°No, I bought this one. You¡¯ve had your entire dosage. Now did you want to stand around picking fights or did you want to rejoin the land of the living?¡±


    Roy let out a breath of relief, feeling his own wings relax. ¡°It would be nice to see something other than the back of my own eyelids,¡± he said with a slight grin. Elias came to join him and clapped him on the back.


    ¡°Good, lad, good. Widowmourne¡¯s been asking for you. The old crow is losing her feathers with worry. You and your tales must be the only joy in that crazy bird¡¯s life. Poor old woman.¡±


    Roy frowned slightly and nodded. ¡°I should go see her then, let her know I survived.¡±


    ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d say that. I have business at the Docks, I¡¯ll walk you there.¡±


    As the pair stepped outside, Roy blinked against the dazzle of the mid-morning light, shielding his eyes. The sky above was crowded with Aven going about their daily routine, the walkways less so. He paused for a moment, letting his vision adjust and getting an idea of how to traverse on foot. Somewhere to the west he heard arguing voices, and looked over to see a heated mid-air quarrel between a Peacock woman and what he assumed was her Falcon lover. Roy was unable to hear their words, but even at this distance he could see the glimmer of gold as she ripped a necklace from her throat and threw it down at the ocean below. With a shout of protest, the Falcon man dropped into a spectacular dive after the shimmering bauble. Tawny wings folded to his back, he cut through the air like a dagger -- and vanished from sight. When he glanced up again, Elias had already moved on.


    The path was made of white marble, worn grey in areas from weather and pedestrians, weaving from tower to tower. Each walkway was hedged by broad stone walls that came up to the hip, and it was against one of these that Elias leaned, his keen eyes studying their route. Roy joined him and glanced around. By air, the Docks were only a few minutes flight, but on foot the road meandered back and forth, cutting first to one tower, then angling to the next, doubling back on itself to a third, offering what felt like minimal progress for maximum effort. He felt a sour frown start to creep on his face.


    ¡°Do you want to try flying?¡± Elias asked, glancing over at his son. He spread his own wings, and with a strong pump, hopped up onto the short wall. The stone dipped slightly where thousands of boots before his had stood.


    Roy spread his wings, giving them a tentative flap. The wing moved easily and he felt the familiar pull upwards, though his feet didn¡¯t leave the ground. The area where the bone had been broken was mildly sore, but with a second pump he was able to hop up beside his father. Glancing down between the walkways at the levels of city beneath him and the ocean far below, he felt a sudden surge of vertigo. Elias grinned at him.


    ¡°This reminds me of when you were just a boy learning how to fly. Your wings had barely molted out, all grey fluff and blue feathers sticking out in a mess. You didn¡¯t wait for the safety harness or even the instructor! You just ran right past the other little girls and boys and leapt right off the edge,¡± he demonstrated by shooting his arm through the open air, swiftly forward -- and then down.


    ¡°I barely remember that. Did I make it at all?¡±


    ¡°Oh Imodai, no!¡± Elias laughed. ¡°You fell like a rock. An awkward, flailing rock who didn¡¯t even know how to beat his wings in time yet.¡± He chuckled, his fists on his hips, looking down at the glistening patches of water visible below. ¡°You¡¯d think I was a Falcon with how quickly I was in a dive. I might have knocked an actual Falconwatch off course. You were far more cautious the second time.¡±


    ¡°And if I flail this time? Will you still dive for me?¡±


    ¡°Always. Though I won¡¯t need to.¡± He gestured across the open air to the walkway. ¡°That¡¯s about ten yards. You can make that.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s more than ten yards,¡± the Peacock said skeptically, eyeing the leap.


    ¡°You can make that. It¡¯s just a hop, I¡¯ll be behind you.¡±


    Roy gave his father doubtful frown, but spread his wings wide, feeling the air against his feathers. Elias moved aside slightly to give him room. Slowly he moved his wings back and forth, testing the pressure, the soreness in his muscles, the tightness in his joints. His legs were frozen beneath him, unwilling to move. His mouth was suddenly dry.


    ¡°Take your time, lad. You can do this.¡±


    He took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Blue wings gave a mighty pump and -- his legs stayed frozen to the spot, refusing to leap. He caught his balance, lowered his wings. Shook out his muscles and adjusted his footing. The Eagle watched patiently nearby. Try again. Wings up. Knees bent, thighs taut, ready to launch. What if he fell? What if his wing wouldn¡¯t hold him? What if Elias wasn¡¯t strong enough to catch him -- what if he hit a lower walkway and broke something again? What if --Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°You¡¯re overthinking it. Take a breath, you¡¯ve done this for years.¡±


    Roy shook himself out again, hopped back down to the main pathway and paced a few feet in either direction, flexings his wings and shaking out his arms and hands. After a moment, he gave a determined growl and hopped back up onto the ledge, staring out across the precipice to the next walkway.


    ¡°That is not ten yards.¡±


    ¡°It is. Fifteen at the most.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s half a bloody block.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just a hop.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a whole mile!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being dramatic.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s ten miles! There¡¯s no way I can fly that far!¡±


    ¡°Oh look, here comes Jacob.¡±


    Without hesitation, Roy leapt from the wall, pumping his wings and feeling the air beneath him. His injured wing protested, but remained steady, beating in unison with its partner and easily supporting his weight. Just as they always had. He landed on the wall of the second walkway and stepped down, glancing over his shoulder just as Elias landed behind him. Looking back to where he had just come, not only did the leap seem far shorter than it had from the opposite bank but¡­


    ¡°...Jacob isn¡¯t there.¡±


    ¡°Oh he¡¯s not?¡± Elias said with a cocky grin, moving across the walkway to prepare for the next flight. ¡°My eyes must be playing tricks on me.¡±


    Roy scowled, but his father simply winked and gestured to the next platform. They moved like this, short flights from walkway to walkway through the morning. Before long, the deep thrum of propellers and the faint smell of coal fires mingled with the distant cries of seagulls. Landing on yet another low wall and stepping down, the two found themselves in Avenholme¡¯s market square.


    ¡°I¡¯m starving,¡± he said, veering away from the breezeway towards a small cafe. Elias followed without complaint. ¡°I don¡¯t remember anything while I was out. Did I eat?¡±


    ¡°Like a shark every time food was offered,¡± Elias replied, pulling out a seat at one of the small outdoor tables, watching a small troupe of musicians set up nearby. In the heart of the City, it was more common to see the different races of Taralensia, and it always interested him to see the exotic creatures he shared the world with. The bronze-scaled Yseren looked for all the world like a dragon in a failed human costume, lizard-like with a long muzzle full of sharp teeth and spiny crests that fanned around his ears. Balancing with his broad tail, he was a stark contrast to the lithe elven girl dressed in glimmering scarves beside him. Every movement of his was quiet power, of hers was glimmering bells.


    As the elf stretched, warming up her muscles, the silver coins embroidered onto her clothes jangled gently and caught the light. She was tall and delicate-looking, with long ears that tapered to a point. She bent her body backwards with impossible flexibility, reaching down to clasp the backs of her own ankles, before moving back upright effortlessly. Elias felt the stiffness in his own joints and felt a tinge of envy along with his fascination. The dragon-man noticed him watching and grinned, winking at the Eagle. Elias cleared his throat and glanced over to his son as the barmaid approached for their order.


    When they were through, he looked to Roy, surprised to see his attention wasn¡¯t on the dancers, but instead on a small flower cart across the square. Beautiful blooms of all colors and varieties covered the little trolley. A Vulture girl with a deep complexion and tiny blooms coloring her dark hair was arranging her display in decorative buckets and basins. He imagined he could smell the delicate fragrances from here. However Roy¡¯s brow was furrowed, as if in deep concentration.


    ¡°Copper for your thoughts?¡±


    The Peacock pondered for a moment longer, before looking back over to him. ¡°What do you know about the Khalis Wastes?¡±


    Elias let out a laugh. ¡°The Wastes? Here I was thinking you were going to ask me about how to approach that lovely girl.¡±


    ¡°No, Father, I try to only ask you about things you are knowledgeable on,¡± the boy shot back.


    Elias scowled darkly for a moment, but let the jab pass. ¡°The Wastes are exactly that. Ruined lands from a forgotten war. The sky there is sickly green and the land is a desert of ash. No one and nothing can live out there, any adventurer stupid enough to venture out has never returned. Why?¡±


    ¡°The war. Do we know what it was about? Who it was between?¡±


    Elias leaned back in his chair with a smile. ¡°You¡¯re so curious. This is good, then you¡¯re going to like what I have planned for you. To your question, the history is muddy. The Yseri say that at the dawn of their creation, the Humans became jealous and wanted the favor of the Dragons for themselves. Other bards say that it was a war between the Gods. Either way, at some point in either version, creatures from the Great Nether were summoned and it escalated into the disaster that it is now, millennia later. Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°Planned for me?¡±


    ¡°Later, later. Why are you so curious about the Khalis Wastes?¡±


    Roy narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but let it rest for now. ¡°Well, I remember hearing about the strange oasis in the Wastes. The flowers¡­ They reminded me.¡±


    ¡°Love¡¯s Ruin?¡± Elias furrowed his brow in concern. ¡°That¡¯s just a myth -- it¡¯s not even based in reality.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that, you said yourself no one ever comes back from the Wastes. Hear me out. Legend goes that the Ruin is in a basin valley, the only area in all of the Khalis Wastes with life in it, even if it¡¯s only a few months out of the year.¡±


    ¡°Nothing grows there, it¡¯s a sea of ash.¡±


    ¡°Just listen. In the legend, if one were to find the valley in the beginning of spring, it seems to be filled with lush green grass that flows with the breeze, and hundreds upon thousands of flowers that spring from every space, all leading to the mouth of a cave. Absolutely beautiful except for one thing.¡±


    Despite himself, Elias found himself intrigued, and nodded for the boy to continue.


    ¡°If you were to pluck a flower from the ground, it would disintegrate from your very fingers. That¡¯s because they¡¯re not flowers at all.¡±


    ¡°Then what are they?¡±


    ¡°Jewels. Finely, delicately crafted gems, absolutely impossible for mortals to replicate. Daffodils made of citrine, roses of garnet and ruby, delicate diamond baby¡¯s breath and always -- in every single retelling of the legend -- one single purple hyacinth.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s so important about the hyacinth?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m getting to that. So for all of spring and into summer, this emerald grass and these gemstone flowers bloom, but on the day of the Autumn Equinox, the ash begins to overtake again, falling like snow over the valley. And during this time, even the slightest breeze calls forth a gentle song from the flowers. Not so much as bells, but as ethereal tune, like a voice. Sad and mournful. And then when it¡¯s all over, the valley is coated in ash and tear-shaped bits of iron.¡±


    ¡°Iron and hyacinths. I don¡¯t understand how they¡¯re related.¡±


    ¡°Well, the druids and many elves say that flowers have their own language. In fact, entire messages can be sent in a simple bouquet. The blue or purple hyacinth happens to mean deep sorrow or regret. It¡¯s an apology. The iron tears are¡­ well, tears.¡±


    ¡°Whose?¡±


    ¡°Hehzotz.¡±


    Elias scoffed, nodding his thanks to the barmaid as she brought their food. Seasoned fish on buns flecked green with flavorful seaweed. ¡°The God of the Mines? Out in the Wastes? Why.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s what I¡¯ve been trying to figure out. And then it hit me. Hehzotz is more than the patron god of Mines, he¡¯s also the god of Treasure.¡±


    ¡°But why the Wastes? There¡¯s no one and nothing to come pay him worship.¡±


    ¡°Right, so how much of the old mythologies do you know?


    ¡°Enough. Which specifically are you referring to?¡±


    ¡°The Abduction of Kataya,¡±


    ¡°Right, right. I remember this. It was something about Hehzotz saw the Goddess of Nature bathing in a river after a hunt and was so enraptured he created a golden rabbit for her to chase. While she was in the form of a sacred wolf, he lured her into the mouth of a cave to be trapped. Hehzotz tried and tried to woo her to be his bride, but she refused.¡±


    ¡°Right, and trapped underground, she refused to thrive and all the world above began to die. And of course, she was already promised to Stavon, the Great Stag.¡±


    ¡°I always wondered why ¡®freedom¡¯ was one of his aspects.¡±


    ¡°This legend takes it a bit more literally, obviously. The natural world began to fall dormant and cold as the Stag hunted for his mate. I don¡¯t know the details here. Some say that when Stavon found her, Hehzotz had realized he could not cage the wilderness itself and let the Wolf Queen free. Others say that in his rage, Stavon laid ruin to the land. But one thing remains constant. Kataya found freedom, and when she left, all of Nature left that area with her, never again to bring bounty to the land or sweetness to the wind.¡±


    ¡°And you think that¡¯s why the Khalis Wastes are¡­ wasted. Because Kataya refuses to set foot there?¡±


    ¡°Possibly. But if Love¡¯s Ruin is true, then the valley is for her.¡±


    ¡°Apology? Invitation to return?¡±


    ¡°As I see it, both.¡± Roy said, starting to eat as the dancers began their performance.


    ¡°Well, this would be a wonderful first project for you. I want you to begin with the Scholars tomorrow. Report to the library in the morning and take a good, hard look at what the tomes say about the historical significance of this story.¡±


    Roy groaned around a mouthful of food. ¡°I thought we already talked about this. In fact I¡¯m pretty sure we talk about this annually.¡±


    ¡°Roy, you know you¡¯d excel at being a Scholar! I see how many stories you write, you¡¯re quite popular it seems. Why not put that keen mind to work that actually matters?¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Dad,¡± he grumbled sarcastically, taking a drink of wine. ¡°Because I don¡¯t want to be trapped in a stuffy, silent library for the rest of my days.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t want to be rank and file either--¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and look how that turned out. I don¡¯t make a good Skyguard. I won¡¯t make a good Scholar.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll do magnificently there! Don¡¯t sell yourself short.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go mad. My wings will go dull and I don¡¯t have a mind for names and dates!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s more complicated than that. Just give it a chance, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll enjoy it.¡±


    He gave an unconvinced grunt and leaned back against the chair, watching the dancers in silence.


    ¡°Promise me you¡¯ll at least try.¡±


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll try.¡± He said, not looking at his father.


    ¡°I had to pull a lot of strings to make this happen¡­¡±


    ¡°I said I¡¯d try,¡± Roy snapped irritably. Oblivious to, or perhaps in spite of the tension growing at the table only a few yards away, the dancers writhed and twisted, moving in unison at one moment then breaking apart abruptly. The Peacock knit his brow as he watched. ¡°...I think they¡¯re telling a story but¡­ I can¡¯t quite figure it out.¡±


    Elias let out a bark of a laugh. ¡°What¡¯s this? A tale I know and you don¡¯t? Watch.¡± He waited until the music seemed to return to the chorus, the beautiful elf woman and the draconic man starting again at opposite ends of the makeshift stage.


    ¡°A great celebration, a traveller from a far off place. From the moment they met, he was in love. Love as deep and strong as the sea,¡± The male crossed to the woman, with beautiful flourishes and dropped into a bow, catching her hand and kissing the back, his golden eyes looking coyly up at her. She giggled and swooned, and now that Roy was watching, he could feel the electric tension between them.


    ¡°His arms fit her just like a glove. And when she saw him she sparkled with glee,¡± The Yseren drew the elf in close, her delicate hand in his and the two moved in perfect rhythm. As they bent and swayed together, his clawed hand moved purposefully lower over his partner¡¯s hip, and with a dramatic swat, she spun away. They were apart again.


    ¡°It was dance as old as time. A battle as sweet as it was sublime.¡± Halfway from her haughty retreat from him, she seemed to change her mind and in a single, fluid movement, she was back in his arms. Her back pressed to his chest, her hand guided his to her waist and again they flowed like water. Like music. The dragon¡¯s bronze muzzle nuzzled into her thick auburn hair, his eyes closing with contentment. Elias¡¯ face clouded. As the two broke apart again, Roy glanced over, concerned by the sudden silence from his father.


    As if shaking from a trance, Elias counted out the coin for their lunch and laid it on the small tabletop.


    ¡°Well?¡± The boy pressed, rising to follow the other man. ¡°Then what happened?¡±


    ¡°The man was cursed, the curse took hold and he spent the rest of his years alone and grim. The end.¡± Heavy leather boots started stalking away in the direction of the docks.


    ¡°Wait -- wait is that really how it goes?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How do you know so much about this song?¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯ve danced this one,¡± Elias said stonily, pushing past the flower girl¡¯s cart, pausing long enough for a small group of children with dull downy wings to rush past him, before moving forward with conviction.


    ¡°You have? When? Slow down, what¡¯s the rush?¡±


    ¡°Ah! Elias! Roy! Good to see you on your feet again, I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re just in time for the chaos.¡±


    The High Justice immediately straightened, his eyes going hard and keen like a blade. ¡°Councilman, what happened?¡±


    Roy turned just in time to see the older Peacock man approaching. Lelucas Hightalon had cut an imposing figure in his youth, though with age both his waist and his eyefeathers had continued to expand. The man¡¯s dark blond hair was tied back in an intricate braid, his hands and chest covered with impressive jewelry. Though he had become portly, he was by no means soft, but his smile was not unkind. As he crossed over to the pair, the long eyefeathers of his wings trailed behind him like a lush cloak.


    He patted Roy¡¯s head affectionately before turning to Elias. ¡°A ship came in, badly damaged, holes peppered all through its hull. The crew claims pirates.¡±


    ¡°Pirates?¡± The two Engelbrecht men echoed, Elias¡¯ tone hard, Roy¡¯s bright with interest.


    ¡°Go find Widowmourne, you¡¯re keeping her waiting,¡± Elias snapped at his son, a snarl creeping into his voice.


    ¡°But--¡±


    ¡°Go!¡± He shouted, ignoring Lelucas¡¯ disagreeing frown. Roy turned obediently and slunk off in the direction of the Trade Company¡¯s headquarters.


    As he rushed, he heard his father¡¯s voice grumble, ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that, Lelucas. I¡¯m keeping him out of trouble.¡±

 Chapter 8 - Cookies

    Roy waded through the chaos of the dock life, his steps guiding him automatically around barrels and past crowded stalls. Sailors and dockworkers of all races moved gear to and from the ships, voices shouted over each other as they tried to barter their wares. Yseri hauled massive crates while Aven worked ropes whose purpose he couldn¡¯t begin to guess at. Roy¡¯s feet lead him as they always had, pausing here to allow a team loaded with sailcloth pass through, pivoting to avoid a Yseren pushing a wagon full of fresh fish. The idea of flight here was laughable, hooks and moving loading tools seemed to create an ever-changing obstacle course. It was difficult enough to navigate on foot.


    Though his motions were easy and effortless, his mind was elsewhere. She made cookies for you! Isn¡¯t that sweet? Roy felt his feathers ruffle anxiously, his jaw setting. That was just what he needed. Cookies. As if he didn¡¯t have enough problems. His wings ached from the short flights, his body was eager for more sleep, and while his ribs no longer hurt, he had noticed the bruises had yet to fade from his skin. Pausing to let a crew pass with a massive broken levitation crystal, he caught his own reflection and gasped. Apparently the bruise had yet to fade from his eye either.


    Groaning softly, he reached up to touch the discolored flesh and found that it was no longer tender. ¡°...How is that fair?¡± He muttered to himself as the crew moved on. ¡°I look like I¡¯ve been thrown off a Spoke.¡± He laughed despite himself, then groaned again and continued on.


    The Corvene Trading Company was busy as usual, but even inside the merchandise-crowded front was a welcome relief to the commotion outside. As he let the door slide closed behind him, he let out a relieved sigh.


    ¡°Roy! Oh wow, I thought you were supposed to be better for them to let you out of the Temple.¡±


    ¡°Ha ha, Valentin,¡± Roy grumbled. ¡°Is it that bad?¡±


    ¡°You tell me, you¡¯re the one wearing it.¡± The Raven man said. He was tall and thin, with white patches on the shoulders of his wings. Premature grey streaked his dark hair as he looked up from the weights and scales, a ledger laid out before him. The Peacock moved to join him at the counter, nodding a greeting to the stranger he was doing business with.


    ¡°Is your Mother in?¡± He asked calmly. Valentin suddenly perked up.


    ¡°Oh, yes. She wanted me to remind you that she¡¯s made cookies for you. Wish she¡¯d make some for me.¡±


    Roy¡¯s feathers ruffled slightly, but he put on his most charming smile. ¡°Oh I wouldn¡¯t be jealous, Val. She¡¯s just trying to perfect her recipe without offending your pallet. You know how much she dotes on you.¡±


    ¡°Can it, Blue.¡± The Raven replied, but he barely hid a smirk. Finishing counting the coin, he scribbled on some ledger and slid it to the customer to sign.


    Roy tilted his head slightly. There was something odd about this new man but he couldn¡¯t quite place his finger on it. Sandy brown hair, dark eyes with a sunkissed tan. Falcon? No¡­ A splash of freckles marked the bridge of the man¡¯s nose and the tops of his cheeks. His hands were dirty and calloused, but there was just¡­ something missing. He narrowed his eyes, realizing he was staring and --


    ¡°Oh! You¡¯re a Human!¡±


    The Human glanced over at him with an amused smirk. ¡°What was your first clue?¡±


    ¡°The lack of wings.¡±


    The man blinked at him. ¡°I was being facetious.¡±


    ¡°As was I. Are you just passing through?¡±


    ¡°Aye. I¡¯m just finishing some trade, then it¡¯s back to the open skies. That is if Widowmourne here will give me a good deal.¡±


    Valentin wrinkled his nose up. ¡°Widowmourne is my mother. My name is Corvene. Why is that so hard to remember? She changed her name after Father died. Why would my name be ¡®widow¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Well she is the Matriarch so¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Matriarch of House Corvene. Of the Corvene Trading Company. It¡¯s written right on the door, it¡¯s not that hard.¡±


    ¡°I dunno. That¡¯s pretty confusing,¡± the Human said with a smirk and a wink, pushing back the ledger and taking his sack of gold, counting the coins quickly before raising a hand in farewell. ¡°Matharell bless you, Widowmourne.¡±


    Roy watched him go, leaning on the counter as he did. ¡°So when is she naming her successor?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll know before I do.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean? You don¡¯t think it will be you? I mean, you¡¯re her son¡­¡±


    ¡°I pray it won¡¯t be me. Sitting on the Council? I have enough trouble keeping the Company running, add running a House on top of that? No thanks. Besides, I¡¯m not the one she bakes cookies for.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not going to name me as heir, you don¡¯t have to worry about that. Besides, I¡¯m already in line for House Redquill.¡±


    ¡°Really? I thought that was going to your cousin. What¡¯s his name? Jason?¡±


    Heat crept up into Roy¡¯s face, he felt his throat go tight but kept himself carefully in check. ¡°Jacob is not going to be the Patriarch.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? I mean¡­ He¡¯s pretty Eagle. And you¡¯re¡­¡± Valentin trailed off with a vague wave of his hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m what, exactly?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ You. You¡¯re not like them.¡±


    ¡°Why? Because my wings are blue? That¡¯s a pretty shitty reason, Widowmourne.¡±


    ¡°Look, I didn¡¯t mean to offend you. But you have to admit you¡¯re not exactly what you think of when you hear Redquill.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Then my first decree will be to change the House name to Bluequill. Better?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant and I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s not how it works. It¡¯s not like you¡¯d be king, you¡¯re just sitting on the ruling council.¡±


    ¡°Then my second decree will be to make me King of House Bluequill. My name already means ¡®King¡¯ in the Human tongue. Call that Human back, he can verify.¡±


    ¡°Quit calling it the ¡®human tongue¡¯. It¡¯s Common. We all speak Common.¡±


    ¡°Roy Azureplume! That will be my official title -- in the Old tongue. Do you know what that translates to?¡±


    ¡°You are the biggest pain in my pinfeathers right now.¡±


    ¡°King Bluequill. Formerly House Redquill,¡±


    ¡°You could form your own House and take it over. Merge it into House Purplequill.¡±


    ¡°Watch your tongue. It will be Violetquill, thank you. But I like how you think. You¡¯ll be my first Squire.¡±


    ¡°Again, not how that works. But I both admire and fear your sudden enthusiasm for this.¡±


    ¡°Just wait til I¡¯m King, everything I do shall make absolute sense. Or else,¡± he said with a dramatically wicked grin.


    ¡°Or else what, dearie?¡± Came a frail croak. Both men turned to the weathered and hunched form of Maven Widowmourne. She had seemed to appear out of nowhere, neither of them had heard the door to the back office even open.


    ¡°Why, or else they shall be denied the honor of basking in their King¡¯s glory. They shall not know of the most epic of quests their mighty liege has conquered. Though of course,¡± he spoke smoothly as he moved across the stone floor to meet her, offering his arm. ¡°The most prized and fantastic of them are saved only for you.¡±


    The crone let out a weak, tittering giggle, her withered hand looping around his forearm. ¡°Oh, my poor boy!¡± She warbled, her entire body trembling with the weakness in her voice. ¡°What happened to your eye?¡±


    ¡°Ah, I shall regale you with the tale, my beautiful Maven,¡± he crooned, gently leading her across the shop. Valentin moved past them to close the door to the back room where she had come from.


    ¡°Did you finish reviewing the books, Mother? You know, you really should just trust me. I¡¯ve been keeping up with them for a decade now, I¡¯m sure they¡¯re perfect.¡±


    ¡°Oh Val, my dear, sweet Val. Leave an old woman to her simple pleasures. It¡¯s the only thing of your father I have left.¡± She sighed, a deep, shuddering breath that left both men to watch her worriedly. ¡°My poor, sweet, Alejandro¡­ When I see those numbers and those tables, I swear I can see his face. Your penmanship is just like his you know. It warms this old heart. Is it drafty in here?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, Maven. Let me escort you upstairs and prepare your tea.¡±


    ¡°Oh my yes,¡± she said, delight brightening the wrinkled face, her cloudy eyes full of joy as her feet shuffled slowly beside the man. ¡°Oh your poor eye. Did it hurt badly?¡±


    ¡°Oh my Queen, not half as badly as I hurt them in return.¡±


    ¡°Who was it, dearie? Who hurt my poor Roy-boy?¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t believe me if I told you,¡± he teased, glancing up periodically to make sure that their route remained clear. At the stairs, he let her navigate her her own pace, one hand clinging to his arm, the other on the banister. Slowly, and relying heavily on his support, she made her way up each step. Left foot. Right foot. Break. Left foot. Right foot. Break.


    ¡°Have I ever told you the story of the Cloudmouse¡¯s Wedding?¡± He asked her pleasantly.


    ¡°No, dearie! I think that¡¯s a new one!¡±


    Four steps. Left foot. Right foot. Break. Five steps. ¡°Once upon a time, a Mage lived all by himself and was very lonely. One day, as he collected water from the river, he leaned his head back to the sky and wished for an answer to his sorrows.¡±


    Left foot. Right foot. Break. Six steps. ¡°At that very moment, a hawk passed overhead. As if in answer to his plea, it dropped its prey, a little Cloudmouse who tumbled to the earth below and landed right in the Mage¡¯s hands.¡±


    ¡°Oh gracious!¡±


    ¡°Gracious indeed! The Mage saw this as a gift from the Gods, salvation from his solitude, and he used his powers to turn the Cloudmouse into a little girl, who he loved dearly and raised as his own child.¡±


    Left foot. Right foot. Break. Seven steps. ¡°As the girl grew, she became the most beautiful in all the land. And though being a father had given the Mage much joy and purpose in his life, he knew that he needed to do what was best and find a husband for his daughter. But who to pick? It must be someone who is the most powerful and exalted, so as to care for his child. So the Mage took his daughter and they flew to the Sun God, Solarus.¡±


    Left foot. Right foot. Break. Eight steps. ¡°¡®Oh Solarus, He of Divine Light! Behold my beautiful daughter, who is to be your wife.¡¯ And Solarus looked upon the daughter and saw that she was indeed lovely. But alas, the God shook his head.¡±


    Left foot. Right foot. Break. Nine steps. ¡°¡®Your daughter is truly beautiful, but I am afraid I cannot marry her. For you see, there is one even stronger than me. Behold the Cloud! For he alone can smother my light and render me invisible.¡¯ And the Mage thought on this and knew it to be true. So he took his daughter with him high up into the sky to the cloud bank where he commanded the clouds.


    ¡®Oh great Cloud! More powerful than the Sun, whose light warms us all. Behold my beautiful daughter, who is to be your wife.¡¯ And the Cloud turned its great billowy head and observed the Mage and his daughter.¡±


    Left foot. Right foot. Break. Ten steps. ¡°¡®Your daughter is truly beautiful,¡¯ the Cloud rumbled, his voice of thunder. ¡®But I am afraid I cannot marry her. You see, there is one even stronger than I. The Wind can shatter my form and push me wherever he pleases. Truly he would make a good bridegroom for your daughter.¡¯ The Mage thought on this and knew it to be true. So he moved on.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    He went next to Wind and cried, ¡®Oh great Wind! Shatterer of the Cloud, who smothers the light of the Sun who warms the world. Behold my beautiful daughter, who is to be your wife.¡¯ And the Wind whipped and wailed and tore around the two before he howled, ¡®Truly, your daughter is very beautiful, but there is another who is more powerful than I. Behold the Mountain. For eons I have blown and blustered but he refuses to bow to me. Surely he is more suited for your daughter¡¯ And the Mage thought on this and knew it to be true.¡±


    Left foot. Right foot. Break. Eleven steps. Just one more. ¡°So the Mage and his daughter went to the Mountain. ¡®Oh great Mountain!¡¯ he cried, ¡°Immovable by the Wind, who shatters the Cloud, who covers the Sun who warms our world. Behold my beautiful daughter, and take her as your bride.¡¯


    And the Mountain looked upon her and replied with an avalanche voice, ¡®Lo, your daughter is truly beautiful. But I cannot wed her, for there is still one stronger than I. On my tallest peak there stands a Lighthouse whose point is higher than even I can reach. He is even greater than I.¡¯ The Mage thought on this and knew it to be true. So he took his daughter and sought out the Lighthouse on the tallest peak of the highest Mountain.¡±


    They had reached the top step, and he opened the door for her, holding out supportive arms as she stepped inside to her personal apartment. The smell of fresh baked cookies wafted out to him, and for a moment he closed his eyes to enjoy the scent. Then he followed her inside, closing the door behind him.


    ¡°The Mage went to the Lighthouse and said ¡®Oh mighty Lighthouse, taller than the great Mountain, who is immovable by the Wind, who shatters the Cloud, who covers the Sun who warms our world. Behold my daughter and take her as your wife.¡¯¡±


    Roy looked around the apartment as the old woman toddled inside. Her purple lace shawl was tossed onto the plush couch, her black wings bearing the same white shoulders as her son. Once the door was closed and the lock clicked in place, however, she straightened. No longer was her back hunched, and the feebleness left her legs. Her eyes went from foggy and senile to sharp and cunning. She moved with the ease of a woman half her age. Gesturing for him to continue, Maven Widowmourne moved swiftly into the kitchen.


    ¡°Have a seat, lad,¡± she said, her voice no longer frail or warbling. ¡°After all, I made you cookies.¡±


    Roy struggled to keep his face neutral, despite the ominous tone in her voice. Her sudden transformation was of no surprise to him. Moving to the table, he sat cautiously down as if the chair could be boobytrapped.


    ¡°Are they actually cookies?¡±


    ¡°Finish your story, boy.¡±


    ¡°The Lighthouse looked at the pair and said ¡®Truly, your daughter is beautiful, but there is one more who is more powerful even than I.¡¯ The mage let out a mighty wail.


    ¡®But you are the Lighthouse, who is taller than the Mountain, who the Wind could not bow! Am I doomed to spend eternity searching while my daughter becomes a spinster?¡¯


    The Lighthouse replied, ¡®In my rafters lives a Cloudmouse, who nibbles and gnaws on my bones. Find him, and you will find a groom for your young bride.¡¯¡±


    Maven returned from the kitchen, her strides strong and purposeful, and gently set down a plate of steaming cookies before the Peacock. He looked at it carefully, and was cautious not to frown as she selected one specific cookie and set it before him on a lace doily. Then she turned and retreated back into the apartment.


    ¡°So the Mage went into the Lighthouse and called to the rafters. ¡®Lo, Cloudmouse! He who gnaws the bones of the Lighthouse, who stands taller than the Mountain, who is immovable to the Wind, who shatters the Cloud, who covers the Sun who warms the land. Behold my daughter, who is to be your wife.¡¯


    And the Cloudmouse came down from the rafters and looked at the daughter and saw that she was lovely. ¡®True, but she is beautiful! However I am but a tiny Cloudmouse, I could never be a good husband to your daughter¡¯.¡±


    Maven returned, this time with a wooden box. She set it carefully on the table and opened the two small doors, revealing a multitude of tiny bottles. Roy¡¯s jaw set, but he kept his worry from his face.


    ¡°Then what happened, dear?¡± She asked, pushing the cookie towards him meaningfully.


    ¡°He threw up his hands, gave up on the whole ordeal and both he and his daughter died alone and unsatisfied.¡±


    She stared at him sternly. Reluctantly he picked up the cookie, looking it over as subtly as he could. It felt normal. The color seemed right. It smelled okay. He bit into it and his mouth was an explosion of sweetness. Rolling it around on his tongue, he tried to discern anything off about the flavor. Perhaps a strange floral note? He wasn¡¯t sure. He swallowed.


    ¡°And the Mage said, ¡®Oh, what strange fates Kheylana weaves! My daughter, most beloved to me of all the world, I shall return to you your natural form.¡¯¡±


    His jaw started feeling weak, and his tongue didn¡¯t seem to want to move as fluidly. The words, which had been dancing in the front of his mind seconds earlier, suddenly seemed muted and dragging.


    ¡°Lametongue Tonic,¡± he said, reaching for the box and pulling it closer to him. His mind was feeling numbed. ¡°No¡­ Something else. Lametongue and Magebane?¡±


    ¡°Finish your story,¡± the woman said calmly. The vibrancy of his wings seemed to be fading, the color of his hair becoming muted. Even his movements seemed subdued.


    ¡°The¡­ Um. The Mage¡­ turned her back into a beautiful girl. No, into a Cloudmouse. And um¡­ Used his magic to make her a beautiful dress of the appropriate size and style. And the Cloudmouse daughter and the tower Cloudmouse were wed and lived happily ever after. The end.¡±


    It was hard to focus, his mind felt like it was dragging. His hands fumbled with the glass bottles, pulling out vial after vial. Yellow powder in one, green paste in another. A third had a reddish liquid. Finally he chose one filled with large seeds and popped the cork, pouring them into his palm. Planting two seeds firmly between his molars he started to chew, leaning back in the chair and looking to her for confirmation. The Raven¡¯s face was stoic and unmoving.


    The nutty flavor flooded his mouth, and as he swallowed, he felt the fog beginning to release its hold on his mind, little by little. He capped the vial and returned it to the box, looking at her again.


    Her focus was irritatingly intense and at the same time told him nothing. It felt like an eternity before she gave him a satisfied nod. ¡°That was quick for you. You even managed to finish your story, however lamely.¡±


    ¡°One of these days your trials are going to kill me.¡± Roy replied grimly.


    ¡°No, not kill. We do not kill, Roy. Remember that. We are not assassins. But it is important to understand the tools of your trade intimately.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m injured, shouldn¡¯t that earn me a break?¡±


    ¡°Have you learned nothing? Would you grant a target a reprieve because they were ¡®having a bad day¡¯?¡±


    Roy hung his head slightly, jumping as he felt her hand go under his chin. ¡°Who did this to you.¡±


    It was less a question, more a demand for an answer. Even with the Milkseeds to counteract the poisons, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he had no witty retort. No riposte came to mind, and he found himself simply sitting stubbornly mute. She waited with equal patience.


    After a moment, his eyes widened and he lunged for the box of vials again, only to have the doors snapped shut on his fingers. ¡°Ah-ah. You had your guesses.¡±


    ¡°There were three, not two. Preacher¡¯s Draught, I need¡­ um. I¡¯ll know it when I see it.¡± he reached again for the box but she dragged it out of his reach.


    ¡°Please, child. If it were Preacher¡¯s, you¡¯d be spilling to me every deep, dark fantasy in that pretty blond head of yours. And as amusing as that would be, I wouldn¡¯t waste my precious stores on a test. You have no inkling how difficult that is to come into¡­ Besides, there were only two. You were wrong about Lametongue.¡±


    He growled in frustration, ¡°Telltrue then. Mixed with Magebane it curtails my storytelling and feels like Lametongue,¡± Roy¡¯s blue eyes went wide again. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because Magebane subdues your natural charm, while Telltrue makes you unable to lie. Lametongue puts a lovely tarnish on that silver tongue of yours, but this mix puts a collar on it. I thought it was obvious, child. But it is so good to see you take an interest in your studies.¡±


    He bristled. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant and you know it,¡±


    ¡°Watch your tone, boy.¡± The Raven¡¯s sharp eyes cut into him and he forced himself to calm. ¡°Who hurt you?¡±


    He stared at her with silent determination for a long moment, then smiled. ¡°Oh, well, if you want a list. When I was five my mother left, when I was seven Father threw his first whiskey bottle at me. Around that time I got attacked by a pack of seagulls because they wanted the bread I had. Traumatizing, truly.¡±


    Roy paused then to take a cookie from the main plate, smirking proudly. Maven didn¡¯t seem amused, watching him with a subtle frown.


    ¡°I can see this is going to take a while. Did I tell you that I heard the most interesting rumor? Your father paid quite a loud visit to the Redquill house three days ago. I also heard your cousin is going to be Captain of the Guard. You must be so proud of him.¡±


    So she knew. Roy¡¯s teeth clenched so hard he was certain he would crack a molar. A distraction. He needed a distraction. But under the effects of the poisons, he could neither lie nor start a story, even if it was based in truth.


    ¡°I completed your assignment.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve made me wait three days, what¡¯s one more hour between friends?¡± She shifted comfortably in her chair. ¡°Who gave you that bruise and what is the story?¡±


    His jaw clenched, but the words rose in his throat, spilling out like bile. ¡°Jacob Redquill. After I finished your job, I took a detour and picked a trinket from his pocket as a¡­ bonus exercise. An Owl girl gave it to him, it gives him great pleasure. I wished to deny him that.¡± A snarl came into his voice, but he could do nothing to stop the flow of words. ¡°He realized it was missing a few hours later and came looking for me. I ran him in circles verbally and he grew angry and drew his sword. Rune hissed at him and he made a move to force her back. From there it¡¯s fuzzy.¡± Like a faucet, the flow slowly stopped. ¡°As much as I hate him, I recognize I own half the blame. I don¡¯t want him hurt unless it¡¯s by my hand.¡± His mouth snapped shut, the final statement of his confession surprising him.


    Maven studied him for a moment, then opened the small cabinet and slid a bottle of red liquid to him. ¡°Good boy. Was that so hard?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he grumbled, uncorking the vial and letting a few drops past his lips. He slid it back, closing his eyes and counting to ten.


    ¡°The sky is green, my father is a famous pirate, Rune speaks perfect Common.¡± Satisfied he opened his eyes in time to see her rising.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go into my office. Will you get the lock for me?¡±


    Following her, he strode across the room to a bookshelf against the wall. Mounted on the stone was a sconce with a half-melted candle. Roy¡¯s hand came up to pry the sconce off and set it aside, revealing a keyhole.


    ¡°You are a stubborn one, I shall give you credit where that is due,¡± Maven said behind him.


    Roy grunted in acknowledgement, reaching across himself to grasp the handle to one of his scroll cases. While Cara had struggled to find the secret to their opening, there really was no trick and certainly no magic involved. He pushed the handle inward, then gave it a twist and pulled again to draw. What slid out was no roll of paper. Instead a well-honed dagger appeared from inside the scroll case. Notches were carved into the base near the hilt.


    ¡°And it is impressive that you managed to hold out against the Telltrue as long as you did¡­¡± Maven continued.


    Roy lifted the blade to slide it into the hole left by the scone, but suddenly found himself spun around to face the Raven woman. His left hand pinned roughly to the wall, his back slammed against the stone, crushing his wings. Maven¡¯s body filled the gap between them, clutching his wrist that held the dagger and forcing his own blade against his throat. He could feel the razor edge against his skin and he craned his head back as best he could, his bright eyes locking on her fierce dark ones.


    ¡°But when I ask a question, I expect an answer. You do not lie to me. Do you understand?¡±


    His response came in a squeaking whisper and the blade was pressed more forcefully to his throat. ¡°Y-yes, ma¡¯am,¡± he repeated. She released him then, handing his blade back to him as if nothing had happened. He took it gingerly and turned again to slide the blade into the hole, twisting the hilt.


    There came a solid click, and then silently the bookshelf slid away from the wall, revealing a set of narrow stone stairs that lead down into a darkened hallway. Maven started down them effortlessly, Roy following a few paces behind. The bookshelf slid back into place behind them, plunging them into darkness. For a long while, the only sound was the soft rhythm of their breathing and the strike of their boots on the stone. Then the faint flicker of torchlight lit the large office. Maps of Avenholme, covered in cryptic marks hung on the walls. Stacks of tomes sat on high shelves, protected from the dank of the ground. They were close to the sewer he knew as he crossed over to her large desk. Beyond the main doorway were tunnels, some leading to drainage pipes that jutted from the lower edges of the floating city, some to secret passageways littered through sewage tunnels, alley ways and some even into the residential apartments themselves.


    Roy was intimately familiar with the tunnel system and paid the maps no mind. Instead, he reached into his breast pocket for one of his bound journals and flipped casually to the center, drawing out a small stack of official-looking documents. ¡°These are the originals. I copied them exactly with the changes you requested. Right down to the splatter marks.¡±


    ¡°Good boy. You¡¯ve done well. Would you like to hear a rumor I¡¯ve heard?¡±


    He turned quickly, eagerness in his eyes. ¡°You said you have news about my mother?¡±


    ¡°Patience, boy, patience. You did your job, trust an old woman to do hers.¡±


    Roy¡¯s face fell, but he leaned back against the desk, gesturing for her to continue.


    ¡°A little bird tells me that the Scholars will have a new apprentice beginning tomorrow. Isn¡¯t that exciting?¡±


    He tilted his head slightly. ¡°That was decided only a few hours ago how did you -- nevermind, I don¡¯t want to know.¡±


    She smiled slyly. ¡°This will be a marvelous opportunity for you, child. Plenty of chances to perfect your forgeries -- your signatures still need a bit of work.¡±


    ¡°I add too much flourish, I know. But if you know that then you¡¯ll know this. I don¡¯t want to be trapped in a stuffy old library all my life.¡±


    ¡°And you shan¡¯t. A few years honing your craft while I plant the proper seeds. With your natural charm, you¡¯ll have access to the restricted tomes in no time. Do you have any idea how valuable they are?¡±


    ¡°You ask much of me,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I can¡¯t thrive in captivity. Hunched over old scrolls and tomes all day, it will be the death of me!¡±


    ¡°You misunderstand what the Scholars are all about, child. Your mind is sharp and cunning, you¡¯ll find it fascinating if you give it a chance. And I give you my word, on my honor as your mentor, as Matriarch of House Corvene and as guild mistress of the Court of Keys, you will not languish there.¡±


    He looked at his feet, reluctant to agree. She moved forward, gently taking his hands in hers. ¡°Trust your granny, child. I push you because I believe in you. You will soar to great heights if you let me guide you.¡±


    Slowly Roy nodded. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am¡­ I¡¯ll give it a try, I suppose.¡±


    Maven caressed his cheek with maternal affection. ¡°That¡¯s a good lad. Now,¡± she said, releasing his hands and stepping back. ¡°My contacts have news on your mother.¡±


    He straightened instantly, eyes wide, waiting for her to continue.


    ¡°A merchant ship matching that of your mother¡¯s was seen in Guildscore. The captain was an Aven woman, a blond Peacock matching her description.¡±


    ¡°Guildscore? How long ago? Could she still be there??¡±


    Maven¡¯s face was pained. ¡°Not likely lad¡­ The sighting was almost two months ago. But I have a job for you. And if you¡¯re successful, I¡¯ll see if I can¡¯t find out which direction she went.¡±


    It was barely anything, a mere crumb of information, but he savored it. In his mind, he imagined his mother, a proud, strong Aven, still as beautiful as she was in his father¡¯s office portrait -- or even the one he kept in his pocket watch that he thought no one knew about. She stood at the helm of her ship, loaded with merchandise, exotic spices and silks, dazzling jewels.


    Did she ever think of them? Of him? Why did she leave? Did she have another family? Was he replaced? His mind was flooded with questions and his heart ached for answers that would never be had. But one day¡­ With enough jobs, with enough crumbs of information, he could find her and ask them himself. He could almost see the look on her face when he appeared before her, called her out in front of her crew where she couldn¡¯t run from him anymore. Where she would have no choice but to give him the answers he desired. He set aside the fantasy and steeled himself, straightening.


    ¡°What¡¯s the job?¡±

 Chapter 9 - Hightalon

    The Jeweled Oracle was barely staying afloat and the offloading crew were moving with remarkable haste. Lelucas grunted softly in annoyance. ¡°It takes the bloody wreck trying to fall from the sky to get them to light a fire under their tails,¡± He shook his head, watching Elias as the man inspected the wreckage.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get much closer than that, Elly,¡± he said, ¡°I don¡¯t know if the Elemental took any damage. The entire thing could very well be lost any moment now.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that,¡± Elias said distractedly, but he took a few steps back. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. You said most of the inventory is accounted for?¡±


    When Lelucas didn¡¯t answer, Elias turned and saw himself being scrutinized. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t her,¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± the Eagle growled, but his face flushed a hot red. ¡°This is your own damn fault you know. Making it so blood gaudy.¡±


    ¡°Gaudy?? It¡¯s the same color as any other ship in port!¡±


    ¡°With a name like the Jeweled Oracle? You¡¯re looking for trouble every time you send it out.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like the designation is painted on its side in crystals and gems. Or at all for that matter. Would you have been so interested if I hadn¡¯t said ¡®pirate¡¯?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my job to be interested, Lelucas.¡±


    ¡°It was your job. You¡¯re High Justice now, not an inquisitor. No more boots on the ground for you, let the young bloods handle that. And the insurance adjustors.¡± He gave an annoyed sigh, his luscious feathers ruffling slightly. ¡°Bunch of blood-thirsty gnolls that they are.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but this is the ship of my oldest and dearest friend--¡±


    ¡°Your only friend.¡±


    ¡°-- and it would be remiss of me not to devote the time and effort necessary to helping him solve this horrible tragedy.¡±


    ¡°Uh huh,¡± Hightalon replied dismissively. ¡°It¡¯s not her.¡±


    ¡°I never implied it was,¡± Elias growled, hearing the edge in his voice. He straightened up, brushing off the lapels of his vest. ¡°Besides,¡± he said with an unconvincingly haughty sniff. ¡°What would I care if it were?¡±


    ¡°Oh come off it, you act like a lovestruck puppy every time you hear the ¡®P¡¯-word. That hasn¡¯t changed in almost fifteen years, and it won¡¯t change today.¡±


    From within the bowels of the ship came a low, rumbling groan. Elias took another step back, at first worried that it was the ship itself, but as the moan continued the hair on the back of his neck rose. Lelucas swore and shouted to his crew. ¡°Get the hooks in it and get it secured in dry dock!¡±


    ¡°Sir! The Wind Elemental is injured, the Galer says he has to release him,¡±


    ¡°I can bloody well hear that it¡¯s injured. Not yet! Get the ship secured or we¡¯ll lose the whole bloody thing and whoever¡¯s on board!¡±


    Falconwatch perched nervously in the alcoves, catch-hooks in hand and ready to dive at a moment''s notice, glancing between the damaged ship and each other. Below, a mixed Aven crew flew this way and that, laden with ropes secured to cranes, working to ensure the ship would be supported once the magic was dispelled. The Elemental gave another low, anguished groan. The sound seemed to rip through the soul, rattling the bones.


    ¡°I am not a puppy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a big, dumb, lovestruck puppy who likes to bare his teeth at anything and everything. Including -- no, especially -- his own tail. For Imodai¡¯s sake, get those hooks in place!¡±


    There were a few final rounds and swoops done by the Aven crew, the Yseri and Human crew below using ropes and pulls to bring the floating vessel closer to the dock. Lelucas¡¯ eyes darted here and there before he raised both hands. Immediately the teams pulled out, the Aven landing nearby to watch.


    ¡°Okay, let it go!¡± He called.


    There was a final groan, this time of relief, as the Galer released the Elemental back to its home plane. An explosive rush of air hit the watching crew, forcing them to stumble back a few paces. Lelucas and Elias planted their feet and leaned into it, their wings blown behind them. The ship continued to hover only for a moment, before it listed to one side and started to fall.


    The ropes went taut, the cranes letting out groans of protest and the ship came even with the dock. Everyone held their breath. The hull rapped gently against the pier, and the ropes creaked, but it sagged no further towards the sea.


    Hightalon¡¯s breath came out in a low whoosh. ¡°Alright, get to work. I¡¯m not paying you to stand around!¡± And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked back up the docks. Elias followed at his side.


    ¡°Have you thought about going back to hot air?¡±


    ¡°Bah! You live in the past, Elias. If Elementals are good enough to keep the bloody city afloat, they¡¯re good enough for a ship. I¡¯m starving. Join me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve already eaten, but I¡¯ll keep you company.¡±


    ¡°And drink my liquor,¡± Lelucas grumbled.


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re offering--¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s barely noon!¡±


    Elias¡¯ nose wrinkled. ¡°Fine. Wine, then.¡±


    Lelucas picked up his pace and didn¡¯t reply. It wasn¡¯t until they were back into the Market Square that he finally started to slow. ¡°This is the second attack on one of my ships. It¡¯s getting tiresome.¡±


    ¡°What are they after? You said it wasn¡¯t a typical attack last time as well.¡±


    Lelucas glanced sidelong at his friend and turned towards the southern residential district. Like the Redquill, the members of the Hightalon House tended to congregate together. ¡°I¡¯ll show you when we get to my apartment. It¡¯s not something I¡¯m comfortable discussing in public.¡±


    He stepped up onto a ledge and spread his wings. Elias hung back a moment, telling himself it was to give the elder Peacock room to launch. But if he were being honest, he found himself enraptured by the beauty of the man¡¯s wings. The vibrant blue threw colors in all directions, the eyefeathers that erupted from the bottom ridge spread and separated, creating a hypnotic layered fan. He couldn¡¯t look away, and by the sudden quiet from the Square, he was not the only one entranced. But if Lelucas recognized the attention or even cared, he did not show it. With a strong flap, he leapt off of the ledge and into the sky. Elias followed a few yards behind him.


    Unlike their earlier journey, the pair did not stop to rest on the pathways, instead soaring over the heads of the grounded pedestrians until they came to the main block that held the Hightalon clan. Lelucas landed with surprising grace for his size, and folded his magnificent wings behind him.


    Elias landed beside him, folding his own wings and glancing around. He knew the walk to Lelucas¡¯ apartment, but let the man lead anyhow. In some ways, the district felt like an entirely different city to him. While the Redquill district was heavily populated by members of the Eagle and Owl clan, Hightalon¡¯s area seemed full of black and blue. Peacocks went about their business, each more bright and shining than the last, each a picture of vibrancy and life. Often they were joined by more than one partner, and more often than not, one of those partners had the glossy black wings of a Raven. It didn¡¯t surprise him. After all if any Aven could keep up with a Peacock¡¯s fantasy and charm, it would be a curious and quick-witted Raven.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    As they crossed through a courtyard, he slowed to watch a small congregation under a pavilion. A Peacock boy was raving passionately about a topic that Elias couldn¡¯t quite make out, his face red and his voice hoarse with sustained volume. His wings, vibrant blue at the shoulders and blending into a shimmering green near the tips, were half-spread and ruffled. Two more Peacocks were with him, a girl who was listening intently, and a boy who stared at his pocketwatch, a quill in his other hand. A Falcon girl and a pair of Ravens sat nearby, listening intently, but not sharing his passion.


    The Skyguard in him wanted to march over and demand the reason for such a display, demand that if he had such grievances as to work himself into a lather, then to bring it to the High Council like a civilized Aven. But as Elias took his first step forward, he remembered himself and looked back to his host.


    ¡°Should we go break that up?¡±


    Lelucas was snapped from some deep thought and looked confusedly at Elias, before looking over at the group. ¡°What? They¡¯re just playing Senate.¡±


    ¡°Senate?¡±


    ¡°Oh come, you know that game, we used to play it with Mollie. Except she called it ¡®I¡¯ll Have You Know¡¯. Same idea. Listen.¡± He moved closer to the group, the ranting boy¡¯s words becoming clearer.


    ¡°--always mucking about, eating my bread and you know what? We need to be thankful for that! Who else would help us keep our slender forms if not for seagulls! You never even think to thank them for all they do, shitting all over the city so that we can appreciate the vast splendor of our beautiful Avenholme, stealing our food to remind us of the hunger of those less fortunate, squawking at all hours of the morning to make sure we never miss our important shifts with much needed sleep -- seagulls are an important and integral part of our society.¡± He took a deep breath and looked keenly at one of the Ravens. ¡°Unlike leaky inkwells.¡±


    The Raven swore under his breath, then launched into his own tirade. ¡°How dare you! I¡¯ll have you know, inkwells are the very most important invention of our time and leaky ones even more so! You dare say that seagulls keep us humble?¡±


    The green-winged Peacock paid little attention, letting out a heavy sigh as he collapsed into the chair. After a moment¡¯s rest, he reached for a glass on the table.


    ¡°Fourteen minutes, twelve seconds. That¡¯s a new personal best, Connor,¡± the boy with the pocketwatch said softly, not wanting to interrupt the Raven.


    ¡°Well I question you, good sir,¡± the Raven continued with rising passion. ¡°Have you ever felt on top of the world, only to have your favorite suit find a huge black blotch? It reminds you -- oh yes -- that no Aven should fly too close to the sun, for that is a place only for the Gods!¡± He stabbed his finger into the air with all the conviction of a preacher.


    Elias turned away, having heard quite enough. Lelucas smirked a little, amused by the game. ¡°You should bring Roy out here some time, I¡¯m sure he¡¯d be good at this.¡±


    ¡°Not a chance,¡± Elias grumbled, ¡°I have enough trouble with his storytelling at inappropriate times. You want me to give him grounds to practice that? No thank you.¡±


    ¡°Bah, you¡¯re too hard on the boy. He needs friends his own age, his own style.¡±


    ¡°He has friends,¡± Elias snapped back, stalking towards Lelucas¡¯ house. It was the Peacock¡¯s turn to follow.


    ¡°Really? Because I only see him off by himself if he isn¡¯t waving around some ridiculous oversized sword and pretending he¡¯s Skyguard.¡±


    ¡°He was doing fine in Skyguard, he had plenty of friends.¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, friends like Jacob. Where is the boy anyhow?¡±


    ¡°Jacob¡¯s on gull duty for the foreseeable future. Removing nests, collecting eggs, thinning the flock, scrubbing excrement if he must.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Lelucas grunted. ¡°Still, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to let him be around his own kind.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s rather intolerant of you, isn¡¯t it? There are plenty of Peacocks in the Skyguard.¡±


    ¡°There are three, and they all showed the aptitude -- and interest -- at an early age. This isn¡¯t about wing color, this is about where his strengths lie.¡±


    Elias paused to let him unlock his door, moving inside before being invited. ¡°Which is why he¡¯s being transferred to the Scholars.¡±


    ¡°Oh Elias. That¡¯s a terrible idea.¡±


    ¡°How? He¡¯ll be safe, he¡¯ll be kept out of trouble, able to keep his mind busy studying the proud history of our people. Of our world.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll be driven mad with boredom within a fortnight. Let him apprentice under someone from my House.¡±


    ¡°He will not be a bard.¡±


    ¡°Fine, but there are other options. A diplomat, a merchant, hell, he could even follow you into law. With his natural charm, he¡¯d make a fine interrogator. No one would be able to resist him. There are options -- but you need to be willing to look outside of the Redquill traditions.¡±


    Elias frowned, staking claim to part of the couch and collapsing onto it, not responding.


    ¡°He¡¯s just as stubborn as you, you know. And that will end poorly for both of you if you don¡¯t relent on something. Anything. This would be a fantastic start.¡±


    ¡°You said that the attacks were different,¡± Elias said, his voice with a tone of finality. ¡°Tell me what they¡¯re after.¡±


    Lelucas sighed, but turned from his friend to move to one of his curio cabinets. Unlike the Englebrecht residence, the Hightalon apartment was oddly cluttered, however each piece had a sense of purpose and belonging to it. The chaos had meaning, and he moved through the mess as easily as an Owl would traverse a filing cabinet. When he turned back, he held a small wooden box in his hands, carefully coming over to rejoin Elias.


    The Eagle leaned forward in curiosity. The box had a high polished shine, a stylized sun emblazoned on the top. Gently, Lelucas lifted the lid, revealing a rather simple-looking obsidian dagger on a velvet cushion. The handle area was primitively wrapped in leather, and a sun was painted in gold on the blade, circled with words in a language that Elias didn¡¯t recognize.


    ¡°The Exile Stone,¡± Lelucas said, his voice so soft it was barely a whisper. ¡°I trust you have heard of it?¡±


    Elias reached for it, only to have the box snapped shut. His hand hovered in mid air. ¡°...Is it the real thing?¡±


    ¡°Do you wish to find out?¡± Lelucas asked darkly. Elias looked up at him, his brown eyes filled with fear and wonder.


    Hightalon slowly opened the box again, this time carefully removing the dagger. It shimmered quietly, the light seeming to slide off of every jagged angle. Quickly and without warning, Lelucas rushed Elias, pressing the flat side of the blade to the man¡¯s forehead. Elias let out a startled yell and scrambled away, clawing at his forehead as he did.


    ¡°Are you insane?!¡± He cried, rushing to the window, ripping open the shutter and sticking his head out. The sun! Where was the sun! As he spotted it, he started to relax, and suddenly realized that Lelucas was laughing hysterically behind him.


    ¡°You¡¯ve signed my death warrant and you¡¯re laughing?!¡±


    ¡°And here I thought you weren¡¯t superstitious!¡±


    ¡°Magic is not superstition, Lelucas!¡± Elias snarled, reaching for his sword. ¡°If I must die I¡¯ll take you with me!¡±


    Lelucas rolled his eyes, flipping the dagger carelessly in his hand. ¡°Oh so dramatic. It¡¯s a replica, you twit. Do you really think I would banish you from the sun? Or a better question -- do you really think that I would actually have such a priceless and dangerous artifact just laying around my house waiting to use on my oldest and dearest friend?¡±


    ¡°Your only friend.¡±


    ¡°Ah-ah, Elias, old chap. Unlike you, I actually do have other friends. But no, you¡¯re fine. The sun will continue to rise and fall for you as it always had. It¡¯s quite convincing though, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Convincing enough that someone would attack two of your ships trying to find it?¡±


    Lelucas grunted. ¡°Aye. It would appear that way.¡± He lazily scratched his temple with the tip of the blade. ¡°The question is who knows I have this. It was meant only for my personal collection, as a curiosity.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll task the boy with digging up any sort of information that might be hidden in the Library. You might want the young bloods to do the brunt of the investigation, but there¡¯s no reason we can¡¯t assist a bit.¡±


    Lelucas frowned again, tapping the blade against his jaw. ¡°Elias¡­ Hear me when I say this. Give the boy other options.¡±


    ¡°He has plenty of options!¡±


    Lelucas rolled his eyes again, setting the dagger back into its case and closing it again. ¡°My boy Zachary, he¡¯s a Falcon. He¡¯s joined the Falconwatch with his mother, and he¡¯s good at it--¡±


    ¡°How is Emily?¡±


    Lelucas paused, taken off guard, then gave a happy, swooning sigh. ¡°Beautiful, as always. She is a foul temptress that enraptures my mind day and night -- but you are trying to distract me, don¡¯t think I don¡¯t see that smirk.¡±


    Elias reached up and ran his hand over his mouth to keep himself from grinning. Lelucas waved the box at him.


    ¡°Dodge the problem all you want, but hear this. You are trying to force a square peg through a round hole. Do you really want to know what will come out of if you succeed?¡±

 Chapter 10 - Cat Burglar

    Rune¡¯s claws dug into his shoulders, but he didn¡¯t notice. As she adjusted her weight, no jingling bell accompanied her movements. Instead, her enchanted collar sat silently in his pocket. He reached up to adjust the hood of his white cloak, making sure that with all her stirring against the back of his neck, it hadn¡¯t slipped down.


    Elias had always found his cloak gaudy -- heavy and white with gold embroidery. Roy had let him make all the assumptions about bad fashion he liked, in actuality the color was for functionality. The weight of it made it less likely to blow in a slight breeze, and the white and gold matched the marble of the Avenholme buildings. Now as he balanced precariously on the ornate outcropping on the apartment building, he was at least confident that his blue wings didn¡¯t make him a beacon. He was nearly invisible against the stonework.


    Roy¡¯s hands moved carefully, manipulating the tools between the rim of the window, gently moving the latches that held it closed. After a moment, he tucked the tools back into his breast pocket and whispered softly. ¡°Hold on, Rune.¡± Her claws dug deeper into his shirt as he lifted the window a few inches, grunting softly. The glass slid in its pane with a loud creak.


    He held his breath, listening carefully for any movement inside. He could hear voices from deeper within the apartment, but the rhythm of conversation was not disrupted by the noise of the window. Letting out a low breath of relief, he shifted to a better position, looking inside. The home office of Lelucas Hightalon was cluttered, but not messy. Stacks of papers and half-rolled scrolls laid on every available surface. Books were stacked haphazardly, some resting mere inches from their dedicated homes on the various shelves. Even the couch was covered in encyclopedias. But the desk itself was relatively clean. A neat ream of parchment sat next to the ink wells and quills. A wax melting spoon rested in its small stove next to a small dish of sealing wax beads. Roy felt a twinge of jealousy, the vibrant, shimmery wax was far out of his price-range. For a moment he considered liberating a few for his own use, but he shook his head. There was no way he¡¯d be able to use them unnoticed.


    Rune shifted on his shoulder again, her cheek against his, whiskers tickling his nose. He smiled. ¡°Good girl, keep Daddy on task, eh?¡± She let out a tiny, chirping mew in response, her eyes fixed on the desk. Sitting there among the rest of the wax tools, was the Hightalon seal. Rune¡¯s paws worked against Roy¡¯s shoulder in rhythm, eager to get to work. He lowered himself to the windowsill, letting her move across and into the apartment. Without her collar, she was silent, a white, orange and black ghost in the darkened room.


    The cat carefully stepped along the cluttered windowsill, her paws not making a sound, ears trained on the door. Each movement was cautious as she leapt down, freezing and listening. Watching. Quietly she darted behind a stack of books on the floor, waited. Belly to the ground, she moved to the office chair. Both cat and master glanced frequently at the open doorway.


    Roy¡¯s palms were sweating, ears straining for any noise that could signal they were caught. Rune was well trained since kittenhood and to her, this was a game. But without her collar, without any way to prevent a disastrous fall, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He chewed his lip with worry.


    But if Rune shared his concerns, she didn¡¯t show it. She leapt lightly up onto the desk, sniffing around before looking back to Roy. She gently tapped a scroll with a paw. He waited and didn¡¯t react. She moved on, tapping the wax spoon and looking back to him. No response. Her paw rested in the wax beads, looking at him expectantly. Sorely tempting¡­ but he remained silent. Undeterred, she continued, tapping her paw softly on the wax seal. He let out a tiny whistle between his teeth.


    The cat hopped to her feet, her multi-colored tail standing up behind her like a flag as she picked up the seal stamp in her teeth and leapt off of the table. She dropped it, picked it up again, and then looked at the door. The fur along her spine rose. Instead of moving to the window, she darted quickly under the sofa. Roy pulled away from the window, pressing himself face-first against the marble. He could hear footsteps.


    ¡°Oh, I thought I closed this thing,¡± Emily Hightalon said. And with a soft grunt from the woman and creak of protest from the window, he was blocked off from his feline partner. Staring at the marble wall, afraid to move for fear of being noticed, Roy¡¯s eyes went wide. He forced himself to stay calm, counting silently in his head. After a few moments, he slowly, agonizingly slowly, moved to peek into the window.


    Emily Hightalon hummed softly to herself as she tidied her husband¡¯s office. Books went back into their places, messy stacks of papers were tapped into slightly neater stacks of papers. Her wings were tan and speckled with darker brown, perfectly sleek and smooth against her back, even relaxed. For all of Lelucas¡¯ romanticism and poetry, it was hard not to imagine his wife as a picture of beauty rivalled only by Salia, the Goddess of Love. But in reality, she was quite average. Her hair was bleached blond from the sun, tied back in a tight braid. The skin of her face and along her arms was heavily freckled, with the exception of pale rings around her eyes where her goggles usually sat. Unlike Lelucas, she had no interest in fashion or style, but she carried herself with a confidence that made no presumptions. Slender and well-toned in her Falconwatch uniform, she would never be accidentally recognized as the wife of a High Council member. But her reputation for kindness and her husband¡¯s boundless adoration of her made her stunning in her own right.


    Roy watched her carefully, praying silently for her to hurry up and leave. As she came to the windowsill again to rearrange some of the clutter into a more decorative fashion, he held his breath. She moved along without noticing him, and finally left the office. He dropped down instantly, almost carelessly and cupped his hands on the glass to look inside. Rune watched him from under the couch, the stamp still between her teeth, her eyes wide and worried. ¡°Hang on, baby. Hang on, I¡¯ll get you out.¡±


    He tugged on the windowsill, but it didn¡¯t budge. It was latched again, but more worrying was that while the window itself didn¡¯t move, one of the vases Emily had rested against it did.


    ¡°Oh no. Oh no no no.¡± He breathed. Rune leapt up onto the sill, almost startling Roy off the ledge. She set the stamp down and pushed her paws on the window. He rested his fingertips against where her pink pads met the glass. ¡°Just hang on, I¡¯ll figure this out. Just hang on.¡± She meowed at him through the window, but he couldn¡¯t hear the sound.


    ¡°Shit. Shit just¡­ Just wait, baby. I¡¯m¡­¡± He gave a frustrated sigh. ¡°I¡¯m coming to get you. It¡¯ll be okay.¡± The cat pressed her forehead against the glass and he frowned, reaching up to brush his fingers against her, feeling only cold glass instead of soft fur. ¡°Just wait. I¡¯ll be there soon.¡±


    Giving her one last look, he dropped off of the ledge, spreading his wings and gliding to a lower walkway. He pulled his cloak off, folded it neatly and tucked it into his satchel before walking to the staircase back up to the higher level. His mind raced. He had to find a way into Lelucas¡¯ apartment, but clearly they were home. As he hopped lightly up the stairs, still only using short flights on his ever-tiring wing, he glanced around the courtyard. In a small pavilion, a group of Aven his age were playing some sort of loud game. It seemed to be winding down, a Peacock girl had a lute in her lap and was lazily strumming out notes as a pair of Ravens bickered over what seemed to be ownership of a pocketwatch. A Falcon girl watched with a bored expression that suggested that this was not the first time an argument like this had erupted.


    Roy caught himself watching them, a mix of curiosity and apprehension slowing his pace. One of the two Peacock boys glanced up as the path brought him closer, and raised his hand in a greeting. Roy froze for an instant, then put up his charming smile and raised a hand in return. Internally he felt a pang of fear. The Hightalon district was not somewhere he came frequently, and almost never on his own. Whenever he had been called to in the past, Elias had pulled his son closer and increased their pace. Now he was alone, and not sure how to act. Peacocks of course had a natural charm, but with that came the ability to see right through it in others. Ravens as well, to a lesser extent, but by the boy¡¯s expression, Roy could tell they saw his nervousness, despite the calm mask.


    The Peacock whispered something to his comrades, and suddenly all six were watching him. He felt exposed and anxious, but simply smiled wider. He kept his shoulders back and his chin up, even though he wanted desperately to slink away as quickly as he could and avoid the situation all together. ¡°You¡¯re the Redquill kid, right?¡± the Raven called loudly. Crap. Roy looked away, hunting for the door to Lelucas¡¯ apartment.


    When he didn¡¯t respond, the Falcon tried instead. ¡°Come over here! We don¡¯t bite!¡±


    ¡°Thank you, but I have a previous enga--¡± He froze as the door to the Hightalon apartment opened, the reddish brown wings of his father slowly backing out, clearly wrapping up some conversation. On second thought, maybe a few minutes of socializing wouldn¡¯t be the end of the world. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he crossed the walkway and hopped up onto the raised floor of the pavilion.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, keeping his tone confident and cheerful. ¡°I¡¯m Roy Engelbrecht, House Redquill.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Connor Delias, these are my friends, the twins Lapis and Lazuli de Gaulle, we¡¯re House Hightalon, of course,¡± the green-winged peacock said. The other two nodded in turn. Lazuli was studying Roy carefully, her fingers picking out a tune that seemed to match his anxiety. Lapis simply reached over and took back his pocketwatch from the Ravens. ¡°Morrigan Jean of House Corvene,¡± the female Raven nodded as she was introduced. Roy smiled and nodded, but a strange prickling sensation made the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand. He glanced over to Lelucas¡¯ apartment again.


    Elias¡¯ eyes bore into him, wide with surprise and disbelief. Roy felt frozen on the spot, unable to move or react. The color drained from his cheeks and the two stared at eachother for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Elias wrinkled up his nose in disgust and turned to stalk away, leaving a fluttering trail of brown feathers in his wake. Roy felt his heart sink, but jumped as the Falcon girl grabbed his hand to shake. If he had heard her name, he wasn¡¯t able to recall it.


    ¡°Pleased to meet you!¡± She said eagerly. Hanging around her neck were the goggles of a Falconwatch, but she wasn¡¯t in uniform. He opened his mouth to question it, an easy segue into taking the attention off of himself, but Connor spoke up first, his voice low and his tone conspiratorial.


    ¡°Was that your father?¡±


    ¡°I-- wha-- um. Yes. It¡¯s nothing. What are you guys doing out here?¡±This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°What happened to your eye?¡±


    Roy shifted uncomfortably. The Peacocks could see right through any mask he put up, and it terrified him to think of what they saw. Lazuli was watching Elias leave and scowling, the tune in her lute changing again to match the annoyance evident in his stride.


    ¡°Gnolls. With great, shaggy wings,¡± he said, trying to grin again.


    Lapis laughed, aiming to slap his knee and missing, hitting his sister¡¯s instead. She opened her wing and whacked him in the back of the head, her eyefeathers glittering in the sun. He pushed her away, grinning. ¡°You¡¯re the storyteller right?¡±


    Roy shifted again, eyes following where his father had disappeared. ¡°It¡¯s just a hobby, really.¡±


    ¡°You should come to the tavern with us some time! I have some ideas but I don¡¯t have the talent for writing. Maybe you can give me some pointers.¡±


    Roy felt himself blush, but smiled. ¡°I¡¯d like that, we¡¯ll have to make plans,¡± he said, knowing full well that there was no way he¡¯d be able to convince his father to let him go. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, it was nice to meet you all, but I have to meet with Lord Hightalon.¡±


    Connor opened his mouth as if intending to stop him, but then smiled and nodded. ¡°Hope to see you again soon. Don¡¯t be a stranger, we could use another for Senate.¡±


    Roy was already moving off of the platform, but he hesitated at the invitation. There was a note of sincerity in the boy¡¯s voice that made him pause and smile more genuinely. ¡°I¡¯d like that,¡± he said, and then hopped off of the pavilion and moved quickly to the apartment. He only hoped that Rune had kept hidden.


    He had no idea what he was going to say, how he was going to get into the house. Teeth clenched in determination, he would figure it out as it unfolded. Rune was counting on him. His fist came up to knock on the door, when it suddenly swung open, Emily trying and failing to escape her husband¡¯s grasp, suppressing giggles.


    ¡°I have to go to work, Luc!¡± She cried, pulled back into his embrace. His arms surrounded her, the glint of his expensive rings a contrast to the plainness of her Falconwatch uniform.


    ¡°Nooo,¡± he moaned. ¡°The light is leaving my world! Darkness will overwhelm!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m on duty in ten minutes!¡±


    His wings surrounded her, pulling her closer to him. ¡°Darkness!¡± He proclaimed again. ¡°The apartment will succumb to the cold, a temple without its Goddess.¡±


    ¡°Luc!¡± she squeaked, trying in vain to free herself.


    ¡°Oh curse, ye, Exile Stone! Why must you torment a man so! The very light of my soul, the sun that warms my heart, being stolen away never to be seen again!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be home at sunset!¡±


    ¡°Never to be seen again!¡±


    Roy shifted, surprised and confused by the sudden display. ¡°Is¡­ this a bad time?¡±


    Emily laughed, trying again to push her husband away. ¡°Every day I leave and every day I return -- you have a guest, my darling.¡±


    ¡°Roy!¡± Lelucas cried, though not in surprise or even embarrassment, as would be proper. ¡°Don¡¯t let her leave! Her place is in the home where I can pamper and cuddle --¡±


    ¡°Darling, enough. I love you, I¡¯ll see you tonight. Good to see you, Roy. Oh your eye looks bad¡­¡± She broke away, taking Roy¡¯s chin in her hand to examine it for a moment. He looked away, looking for an escape. But as his gaze went past Emily, he saw Rune¡¯s wide green eyes watching him from the hallway. So they hadn¡¯t noticed. And the seal was still between her teeth.


    As Emily left, Lelucas watched her go with a smitten sigh. ¡°It never gets any easier. Do you have a girl in your life yet, son?¡±


    Roy shook his head, ¡°No, sir.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Lelucas replied, stepping out of the doorway and gesturing him inside. ¡°A boy, then?¡±


    Roy laughed lightly, ¡°Still no, sir. I¡¯m afraid romance would cut terribly into my busy schedule of being a never-ending disappointment to my father.¡±


    Lelucas closed the door behind him, Rune ducking back into the office as they came inside. ¡°Speaking of your father, does he know you¡¯re here? You¡¯ve never come to call on your own.¡±


    ¡°No, sir. Though he did pass me on the way.¡± He hesitated in the entryway until Lelucas gestured him to a spot on the couch. ¡°He was¡­ not pleased. But I um¡­ I need to talk to you about something.¡± What that ¡®something¡¯ was, he hadn¡¯t yet determined.


    Lelucas gasped, his eyes going wide with elation. ¡°I knew it! I knew you¡¯d come to me eventually! Wait! This calls for wine. Don¡¯t worry lad, this is a safe place, you can tell me anything you want.¡±


    Roy felt a sudden surge of dread. Apparently the topic had been determined for him. As Lelucas hurried into the kitchen to fetch the wine, Rune darted to her master. She dropped the seal in his hand and he hastily snuck it into his pocket, fishing out her collar and quickly slipping it around her neck. She leapt into his lap and started nuzzling against his jaw excitedly. ¡°Good girl,¡± he whispered, before glancing over to where Lelucas had vanished.


    ¡°I¡¯m so glad you decided to come to me, boy!¡± The older man said, returning with a pair of glasses and a bottle.


    ¡°Yes well¡­ it¡¯s¡­ rather embarrassing actually. And I don¡¯t think that my father really¡­ understands.¡±


    Hightalon clicked his tongue, pulling the cork and pouring them each a glass. ¡°No, of course he doesn¡¯t. As much as he thinks that he knows what¡¯s best, he truly is clueless. I mean, you¡¯re a Peacock. And there are some things that only a Peacock can teach another Peacock.¡± He said, pushing the glass to Roy and reaching over to pet Rune. ¡°Oh? Where did you come from.¡±


    ¡°She was in my satchel, I¡¯m sorry. If she¡¯s not welcome, I can take her home and --¡± He started to rise, seeing a potential escape.


    ¡°Nonsense, nonsense!¡± Lelucas chuckled, settling himself in the armchair across from Roy and waving him back down. ¡°Ah, I¡¯ve been hoping you¡¯d come to me ever since you were a lad. Elias tries hard, but he¡¯s in over his head. And you¡¯re coming of age, which means you¡¯re going through some¡­ Changes.¡±


    Oh Gods. Roy opened his mouth to reply, but only awkward sputtering came.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing to be ashamed of, boy! Not at all! Your mother went through it, I went through it, and now you¡¯re going through it.¡± Lelucas paused to take a sip of wine. ¡°Your eyefeathers are starting to come in, yes? And you find yourself unable to¡­ turn it off, as they say?¡±


    Roy paused and blinked. ¡°I¡­ Actually, yes. I mean, a little. I thought it was just me.¡±


    ¡°Not at all, lad, it¡¯s perfectly natural. You need to be aware of it and learn to channel it. The longer and fuller your eyefeathers become, the more strong your charm will become. And you might get urges. Urges when you aren¡¯t getting your way.¡±


    ¡°What, like violence? I¡¯m not the aggressive sort.¡±


    ¡°Oh no, my boy. Not violence. You might find yourself with an urge to use your wings, to focus your charm on a target. It¡¯ll seem easy at first, if exhausting, convincing someone to do whatever you want. However as tempting as it may seem, you must always resist. There¡¯s a hefty price, you see.¡±


    ¡°Aye¡­ Father¡¯s told me the punishment for using Peacock charm in the City.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about punishment, boy. As soon as the charm breaks, your target will know they¡¯ve been duped. They¡¯ll know you charmed them, they¡¯ll know they were working against their own will. And they¡¯ll know you were responsible. The price is trust, lad. It takes years to build and only a single charm to shatter irreparably.¡± Lelucas paused, studying him in silence for a moment. ¡°Have you tried it before?¡±


    ¡°What! No! Never! I mean¡­ How do you know if you¡¯ve been charmed?¡±


    ¡°You know. I could charm you if you want a demonstration.¡±


    Roy shook his head quickly. ¡°No no, I¡¯ll take your word for it.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? They say it¡¯s best if your first time is with someone you trust,¡± He said with a playful wink.


    Roy blushed ferociously and shook his head. ¡°N-no, it¡¯s quite alright.¡± Hightalon simply chuckled and smiled. Roy frowned, looking down at the glass in his hands for a long moment. ¡°...Did my mother charm my father? Is that why he hates her so much?¡±


    It was Lelucas¡¯ turn to be surprised and he gently set his wineglass down. ¡°Oh my dear boy. No. What happened between your parents is¡­¡± He waved his hand in the air, searching for a word. ¡°It really would be better if this came from Elias. However I¡¯m afraid he still hasn¡¯t come to terms with his own fault in the situation. By Salia you are just like her though. I¡¯m sure she misses you both every day.¡±


    ¡°Then why hasn¡¯t she come back?¡± Roy asked harshly, a strange anger rising in his chest. ¡°Why did she leave us? Father is so angry he¡¯s barely Aven anymore, and I¡¯m¡­¡± He trailed off, biting his inner cheek to force back the wetness starting to blur his vision.


    ¡°He¡¯s making me start in the Library,¡± Roy said instead, defeat sagging his shoulders. ¡°I¡­ It¡¯s going to be so boring. I don¡¯t get along with Owls, they talk in this weird circular way that I don¡¯t understand. I¡¯m not smart like a Raven, they won¡¯t like me and I¡¯ll just be more alone. I don¡¯t belong there. They¡¯ll think I¡¯m different.¡± Rune shifted in his lap and he felt her rough tongue against his cheek. He realized suddenly that his skin was wet with tears he was helpless to stop. Instead, he focused stubbornly on his palms and went into stony silence.


    Lelucas watched him quietly for a moment, then sighed, gently pulling a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and sliding it across the table to the boy. ¡°Well¡­ That¡¯s because you are different. And that isn¡¯t bad. It¡¯s just different. My boy is a Falcon. From the day his feathers grew in, he¡¯s wanted to race the wind. He needs speed, he needs challenge, he needs to push himself to the impossible. I don¡¯t understand it. I cannot, and I accept that. But Emily can, and I thank the Gods every day that he has her to guide him. To understand him in ways that I cannot. Since you were a child, you¡¯ve been a storyteller. You¡¯ve needed to paint the world vibrant colors. You need the romance, the adventure, and if you cannot find it you will make it - literally. But your father cannot understand that. And he cannot accept that.¡±


    He studied his glass again, politely keeping his eyes averted as the boy wiped his eyes. ¡°He is doing the best he knows how, but without your mother to guide you ¨C without another Peacock to understand you ¨C you will not thrive. It¡¯s harsh, but it¡¯s truth. You are destined to do more than hold a sword or memorize history.¡±


    Lelucas sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ¡°I should have stepped in sooner. I should have made your father listen to reason, and for that I am sorry. But I will make him see now.¡±


    Roy looked up, but said nothing, his eyes rimmed red. Lelucas continued. ¡°Let me work on him, I will get you an apprenticeship somewhere in my House. A diplomat or a bard ¨C hell, even a merchant if you inherited your mother¡¯s cunning art of haggling as well as her silver tongue. Give me a few days. It will mean a few days in the Library, but use it to learn some of the more forgotten parts of our history and put them into story. I¡¯ve sat by silently long enough. Let me help you forge your own path.¡±


    Roy sniffed again, gently pushing Rune down as she continued drying his tears with her tongue. ¡°You would do that for me?¡±


    Lelucas blinked and reached over to ruffle the boy¡¯s hair, frowning slightly at the startled jump that accompanied it. ¡°Of course. I should have stepped in much sooner. I thought Elias would find his way back on his own, but clearly that¡¯s not the case, and his self destruction is affecting more than just him.¡±


    Roy nodded quietly for a moment, then looked up suspiciously. ¡°Did you charm me into telling you all that just now?¡±


    Hightalon let out a bark of a laugh. ¡°No, no dear boy. You just trust me, is all. That too, is natural.¡±


    The boy took a deep breath and let himself relax. A burden had suddenly been lifted from somewhere in his chest, but somehow the seal in his pocket now felt heavier than lead.

 Chapter 11 - Charmed, Im Sure

    The wind caught him from beneath and pushed him upwards. He loved flying. He loved Avenholme and the way the sunset threw fire off of the windows and the polished marble. He loved Lord Hightalon¡¯s stories, the first good conversation he¡¯d had in recent memories. He loved the man¡¯s generosity, he loved the food. He loved watching Lelucas and Emily together, he loved listening to Zachary¡¯s stories about his patrol -- how the boy could make something as mundane as seeing a whale breach seem romantic. He loved simply being an audience to the stories for once. He loved watching them cook together, even if Lelucas did get distracted halfway through, opting instead to loudly serenade his wife of twenty years as if he were still trying to win her hand. He loved the feeling of being welcome, as if he had belonged there all his life.


    He especially loved the copious wine.


    Roy landed on the pathway, stumbled, then walked across to the next side to start again. His wing was aching, but he looked forward to settling into bed. Rune was already asleep on top of his cloak in the satchel that hung at his side. Tomorrow started his stint in the Library, and if Lelucas could be believed, it would be mercifully short. As the sun dipped further below the horizon, he went to land -- and realized all too late that someone was in his way.


    He slammed bodily into the other pedestrian, the two rolling and tumbling. Firm hands caught him by the shoulders, holding him steady. Even though they had stopped moving, the world continued to spin, and he grabbed onto his savior to try and ease the vertigo. ¡°Thank you, kind - uh- sir! You are truly my hero,¡± he said, with only a slight slur.


    ¡°By Imodai, are you drunk?¡±


    Roy¡¯s vision snapped back quickly, and he pulled out of Jacob¡¯s grip with a snarl. Stumbled a few paces back, then wobbled and tried to straighten. He struck the most sober pose he could think of, watching Jacob pull himself back up to his feet. The boy was in a Skyguard uniform, but it was covered with specks of bird feces and white feathers. Jacob¡¯s lip curled slightly as he looked Roy up and down.


    ¡°I¡¯m not drunk, I¡¯m relaxed,¡± Roy argued tensely.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look relaxed.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re ruining the ambiance, Jacob.¡± He snapped, fists clenched at his sides.


    The two stared at each other, Roy smouldering, Jacob tired but slowly growing frustrated. The Peacock was wobbling slightly, and one wing seemed to have trouble finding a comfortable position. It opened, folded. Reopened. Shook out. Folded again in a different position. Jacob felt a pang of guilt, then annoyance.


    ¡°Look, I wanted to talk to you about what happened,¡± he started.


    ¡°Oh? Wanted to apologize for not finishing the job? That¡¯s likely a conversation you should be directing at my father.¡±


    ¡°What in the void is that supposed to mean?¡±


    ¡°Oh come off it! We all know why you did it. You want my father all to yourself. A patriarch and his precious do-no-wrong nephew. It¡¯s like a bloody storybook, isn¡¯t it?¡± Roy snarled, stalking forward to shorten the gap between them.


    ¡°You think that¡¯s what¡¯s happened?? You think it was intentional because I wanted more of Uncle¡¯s attention?¡±


    Roy¡¯s finger jabbed Jacob in the chest. ¡°You wanted me out of the picture, admit it. So you could just be the perfect son that Elias always wanted,¡±


    ¡°You need to back away. Right now,¡± Jacob growled in warning, holding his ground. ¡°It was an accident.¡±


    ¡°You hit me in the head with your sword!¡± Roy yelled, his face inches from Jacob¡¯s. The Eagle planted a hand on the boy¡¯s chest and pushed him away. ¡°You hit me in the fecking head and threw me off the Spoke! Because you wanted me out of the way.¡±


    ¡°No one wants you out of the way and I didn¡¯t push you. You stumbled and I--¡±


    ¡°Do you see this eye, Jacob?! Do you see the scar?¡± Not waiting for a reply, he reached up and started slapping at the scar with his fingers to better illustrate its existence.


    ¡°Yes I-- yes, stop that! I see it! You¡¯re really drunk.¡±


    ¡°No I¡¯m not!¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to hurt you, it got out of hand! I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you to be sorry, I want you to be gone!¡±


    Jacob growled. ¡°What did I ever do to you? You¡¯re so damn spoiled! Everything has to be about you!¡±


    Roy stumbled back a step, growling in rage, his hands clawing at his hair, pulling at the blond locks. ¡°No! No it¡¯s not! Do you know how hard I have to work to get my father to even notice me? And you just waltz in with your stupid perfect brown wings and your stupid perfect physique and your stupid perfect -- face! And you undo all the work I¡¯ve ever done just by existing!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true -¡±


    ¡°Yes it is! It¡¯s not fair!¡±


    ¡°Stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself! Everyone adores you! You can do no wrong -- you and your stupid stories.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all fake, you idiot! All of it!¡± The Peacock was pacing in short steps, stopping only to yell or continue pulling at his hair. ¡°No one cares, and the one person who should -- you know what he asked me, Jacob? He asked me what I did. Like it was my fault.¡± The blue eyes locked on Jacob¡¯s brown with a sort of wild desperation that sent an uncomfortable pang deep into his core.


    Jacob ignored it.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t completely innocent you know.¡±


    To Jacob¡¯s surprise, Roy backed up a step as if struck. His eyes went from desperate to wounded. ¡°No. Fine. No, you¡¯re right. I¡¯ve been going about this all wrong.¡±


    Jacob regarded him with sudden suspicion but said nothing.


    The drunk boy let out a high, crazy laugh, ¡°I¡¯ve been going about this all wrong. You see, all this time I thought I was the hero of this story. I thought that if I just work hard enough, try hard enough, everything would come around. I thought -- Imodai am I stupid -- I thought I could actually win. That everything would end up my way. That my father would get his head out of his arse and pretend to love me. That my mother would come back. That I could do what I wanted with my life instead of struggling to fit into a mold not meant for me.¡± His shoulders slumped and his wings sagged.


    Jacob frowned, taking a cautious step forward. ¡°Roy?¡±


    ¡°But that¡¯s not how it is at all. I¡¯m not the hero.¡±


    ¡°Roy¡­ Let me take you home.¡±


    ¡°And if I¡¯m not the hero¡­¡± The Peacock¡¯s brow furrowed, and slowly his eyes rose, locking with an unnerving keenness on Jacob¡¯s. ¡°Then I must be the villain.¡±


    Jacob felt an electric tingling run up his spine, a sense of horrible foreboding like that of an oncoming storm. There was a feeling that he needed to move, to prevent something, but what? He lunged, determined to stop Roy, though from what he didn¡¯t know, but in the instant it took him to move, the Peacock¡¯s wings were up and spread fully, splayed like a fan behind his head. The sparse eyefeathers trembled and the colors were so beautiful that he found himself transfixed, unable to move. Not wanting to move. They were so pretty¡­ All other thoughts left his mind but the beauty of those wings -- and the intensity of the blue eyes boring into him. He smiled, relaxing into a simple, serene joy.


    ¡°Good¡­¡± Roy said calmly, holding Jacob¡¯s gaze with an intensity that was almost painful. ¡°Are you listening to me?¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Jacob smiled with a peaceful vacancy and nodded.


    ¡°Good. Now I¡¯m going to show you what it feels like to be useless. To be helpless.¡± He stepped forward gingerly. Jacob simply smiled. ¡°I¡¯m going to do to you what you did to me. But there won¡¯t be anyone to fish you up,¡±


    Roy¡¯s voice came in a growl, now barely inches from Jacob¡¯s glazed face. ¡°Turn around,¡± he commanded. The Eagle obeyed happily, snapping a crisp about-face.


    The Peacock¡¯s wings trembled again, the eyefeathers rattling softly. ¡°Go to the ledge,¡± And as his cousin obeyed, ¡°Hop onto it.¡±


    Jacob leapt carelessly up onto the ledge, staring straight forward, letting out the occasional relaxed sigh.


    ¡°Look down,¡± Roy commanded. ¡°Do you see that water? Do you see the cold, chopping waves? Doesn¡¯t it look like a beautiful night for a dive?¡±


    Jacob nodded dumbly, leaning almost too far over to look down at the water below.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to use your wings. You can dive like the humans do. Won¡¯t that just be so fun?¡± The memory of rushing air made the Peacock boy pause, shaking his head. His forehead suddenly ached, fear welling up in his chest. He clenched his teeth and bit down on his own tongue, forcing himself to stay grounded. Stay here. Stay here.


    ¡°You want to dive in. How cool and refreshing that water is --¡± He was drowning, breathing in briny water, choking and unable to surface. Something was wrong with his wing -- Stay here -- waterlogged and sinking -- No! Focus! Stay here! --  drowning! There was no sign of land -- NO! Finish this!


    He staggered back a few steps, clutching his head, grasping at his hair. ¡°You want to! You want to --¡± Jump. Jump. Jump. The word sat on his tongue, but refused to move. ¡°You -- You want to --¡± Jump. JUMP!  His jaw wouldn¡¯t work, the sound stuck in his throat, sat in a stubborn lump. Jump! The pain in his head, the smell of saltwater and blood. The burn of water in his sinuses, the panic of lungs being flooded. The sheer vastness of the sea all around him and how desperately far Avenholme was above.


    ¡°Just -- Just -- Do it, just j--¡± His voice choked again, dissolving into a snarl that spiked into a furious shriek of rage. Meanwhile, Jacob stood calmly on the ledge, awaiting further instructions.


    Roy sank into a crouch, his arms wrapped around his head, both wings still up, eyefeathers still trembling. ¡°I can¡¯t do it¡­ I can¡¯t do it¡­¡± His fingernails dug into his scalp, grazing long frustrated lines in his skin as he slowly uncoiled his arms.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do it¡­ I just want this to end. I just want to take this idiotic rivalry to its final stupidity¡­ I can¡¯t do it¡­¡± Slowly he rose. ¡°You win. Again. Step back down towards me. Carefully.¡±


    The Eagle turned around carefully and stepped down, moving closer to Roy, now on the safety of the platform proper. ¡°I want you to remember this¡­ I could have done it tonight. I could have killed you. And I decided not to. I decided not to let you fall into the water. Maybe you would have snapped out of it in time. Maybe not. But I decided not to stoop to your level. Remember that.¡±


    Jacob nodded calmly, his eyes glassy. Roy wrinkled his nose in disgust, folding his wings behind him again. ¡°...Now um. Dance or something until the charm breaks. I¡¯m done with you.¡±


    The Eagle, still enchanted, started to awkwardly bob and dance in place to unheard music. Roy didn¡¯t wait to see how long it took for him to come back to his senses, but he suspected he only had moments.


    He stalked towards his home apartments, forcing himself not to break into a run. Why couldn¡¯t he do it? Why couldn¡¯t he just kill him and be done with it? He was no hero. He wasn¡¯t the focus of the stories he made up. But he was no villain either. He couldn¡¯t do it. So if he wasn¡¯t a hero and he wasn¡¯t a villain, that made him¡­


    ¡°Nothing. That makes me nothing,¡± he said quietly to himself. He heard an angry yell from the platform and hastened his pace. By the time he reached the Engelbrecht apartment, the adrenaline had worn off and every muscle ached. His wings trembled against his back, barely able to hold themselves up. His head throbbed dully and he wanted desperately to sleep. Rune meowed softly in the satchel, as if asking if the trouble were over.


    Groggily, he patted the bag, ¡°Remind Daddy never to do that again¡­ It¡¯s a bit¡­ completely and utterly draining.¡± His key slid into the lock and let himself into the apartment, closing the door and slumping against it. As he rested, a slow creeping dread crawled over his skin.


    Something was wrong.


    The apartment was too quiet. This soon after sunset, the servants should still be on duty. But instead, the hallway was sinking into an eerie darkness. No candles were lit, but he could see a glow down the hall from the open door of his father¡¯s office. The hair along his arms and the down of his wings stood on end. Roy leaned down to let Rune out of the bag and she bolted to his room with her belly on the ground. He had wandered into a minefield, one he had traversed many times before.


    One he had yet to find a safe way through.


    Taking a low, slow breath, he tried to calm himself. It would do no good to panic now. Not when it was time to perform. One more slow breath, and he straightened, putting on his best smile, tossing his hair over his shoulder and carefully folding his wings behind him.


    As he marched proudly to his father¡¯s room, the tension struck him like the first gales of a hurricane. A fire crackled in the hearth, but there was nothing welcoming about the glow. Elias sat in his high-backed chair, his form silhouetted against the flames. The light bounced off of his eyes, staring fixedly ahead at the portrait on the wall. The ice in his glass rattled softly as he brought it to his lips, unblinking.


    Showtime. Roy beamed as he walked in, keeping his voice light and bright. ¡°Father! You¡¯re going to ruin your eyes you know, shall I get a candle for you?¡±


    There was no answer. He pushed on, undeterred. ¡°Did you send Maribel and Gunther home?¡± He asked pleasantly. Roy could hear a creak of leather as Elias¡¯ grip tightened on the glass. His spirits began to flag.


    ¡°Where were you.¡± Came the cool snarl, barely louder than a whisper. Roy felt his wings tense, his legs braced to run.


    ¡°Oh, I had some business with Lord Hightalon and --¡±


    ¡°For six hours?¡± Another tightening creak, the high note of cracking glass. He has misstepped.


    ¡°Bah,¡± he scoffed, sounding annoyed himself. ¡°You know how he is. Once he starts talking, you can¡¯t escape! It would have been rude to --¡±


    ¡°Next time be rude.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± In the silence, he heard the grip loosen, if only slightly. Elias did not continue, simply staring forward. Roy waited for what felt like an eternity, determined to to keep his demeanor bright when his father finally spoke again.


    ¡°Did you have a good time?¡±


    The question felt loaded. Another misstep. Counter with a barking, incredulous laugh. ¡°Good time? Ugh, Father, it was a nightmare trying to escape. It¡¯s a miracle my ears aren¡¯t bleeding. Though they may be, I¡¯m not sure. I am rather tired.¡±


    Elias said nothing, taking a long drink from his glass. The silence was deafening and dangerous. He didn¡¯t dare leave, but to stay could prove doom just as easily.


    ¡°You know, he had an interesting artifact -- a replica mind you -- of the Exile Stone. Have you ever heard the story?¡± He didn¡¯t wait for affirmation, trudging on. Anything to fill the silence. ¡°According to legend, it¡¯s used by some of the elf clans, I¡¯m not sure which ones. Anyhow, they worship the Sun -- well, sort of a primitive version of Solarus I suppose if you want to be technical. When one of their ilk commits a serious crime, instead of execution, they can exile them from the sun. One day everything is fine, the sun sets that night like it always does¡­ and never rises again.¡±


    No response. That was a good sign. ¡°You might be thinking, what¡¯s so special about the Sun? Sure it¡¯s light and warm, but big deal. Many creatures adjust to the dark. But soon the Moon winks out as well, and then the planets. In the eternal darkness, you need a torch to see your way, even in the height of noon. Eventually the world around you cools, and you could freeze even in a desert. Soon the plants start to waste away, and the animals that eat the plants, but only to you. Only to --¡±


    In a single swift motion, Elias threw his near empty glass at the wall beneath the portrait. The crystal shattered into a thousand shards with a spectacular crash. Roy tensed, bracing, his eyes shut tight. But no other motion came. His heart beat a tattoo against his ribs and he focused on keeping his breathing calm and his voice steady. As if nothing had happened. Inside he was withering.


    ¡°But I thought this would be a great project to start in the Library -- alongside the Love¡¯s Ruin project of course. I¡¯ll make you proud, Father.¡±


    ¡°There is nothing you can do to make me more proud,¡± Elias said grimly.


    Roy scoffed slightly, staring at his father¡¯s immobile form questioningly. ¡°Clearly that isn¡¯t true. I¡¯m not living up to the family name, I¡¯m not a hero or Captain of the Guard or a great Scholar or-¡±


    ¡°You misunderstand me, boy. There is nothing that you can do that will make me proud of you.¡±


    The ground beneath him no longer felt completely solid. Roy swayed on his feet, his head spinning for a moment. His hand went to the doorframe for support. Elias didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°I will be a Scholar¡­¡±


    ¡°You will fail. Just like you failed at the Skyguard. Just like you failed at a dozen things before that. I give up trying to be proud of you. I give up on you.¡±


    I am not a hero. I am not a villain. I am nothing. ¡°You¡¯re wrong.¡± His own words startled him, and he wasn¡¯t sure if they were directed to his father or to himself. But it got his father¡¯s attention.


    Elias shifted in the chair, his eyes piercing. ¡°Am I?¡± His tone was incredulous, as if the boy had just declared that the fire could freeze. Roy didn¡¯t flinch, but his breath came in tight gasps that caught in his throat.


    ¡°You are. And the next time you see me, I will be a hero. Or I will die trying.¡±


    Elias scoffed and turned back around. ¡°If you are, I will eat my gavel,¡± he said calmly.


    Roy stared at his father in silence. A strange, distant part of his mind felt certain he should be feeling something. Pain. Sadness. Fear. But he just felt¡­ empty. He turned silently on his heel and stalked out. Elias didn¡¯t react at the sound of the boy¡¯s bedroom door shutting quietly, though part of him registered surprise at the lack of dramatic slam.


    Nearly an hour later, the front door opened, equally quiet, and shut with a resounding finality.

 Chapter 12 - Blood is Thicker

    Elias sat in silence, festering in his own rage, though the reason he was angry had slipped his mind hours ago. All he knew was that he was angry. Angry at his son for again failing to rise to his expectations. For daring to question him when his word was law. He was High Justice! Angry at Mollie -- at her portrait for daring to mock him with her smile. At Lelucas for¡­


    His dark brow furrowed. Where was his glass? And was that the door? He gave a strained grunt as he climbed to his feet, hauling himself out of his chair with great effort. The world wobbled under him, listing slowly to the right. He planted his hand on the side table to steady himself.


    ¡°Roy?¡± He yelled, his voice hoarse and thick. There came no response. He tried again, louder this time. Nothing. With a grunt, he started out of the room, holding onto the chair, the table, the doorframe. The floor seemed to be at a slant today, but that didn¡¯t strike him as unusual. Where was that stupid boy?


    He vaguely remembered an argument, but that was days ago. Hours ago? Time was hard. The apartment was dark, and he stumbled over something in the hallway, falling against the credenza. His hand came down on something -- a second of resistance -- then a smash. There was a distant sensation he thought may be pain, but he couldn¡¯t be sure. Didn¡¯t matter.


    ¡°Roy?¡± He called out again, stumbling down the hallway towards the boy¡¯s room. The door was partially ajar, but he could see no light from within. Elias felt a vague notion that he should be more cognizant of his volume.


    ¡°Are you asleep?¡± He yelled softly.


    He should make peace with the boy. Never go to bed angry, that¡¯s what his mother used to say, Engraal rest her soul.


    ¡°Roy?¡± He asked again in a quiet bellow.


    Still there was nothing. Something didn¡¯t seem right. Clinging to a coat rack, pulling it over with him as he stumbled to the bed, he sat down heavily, reaching for where his son lay. ¡°Wake up, this is impor--¡±


    His hand landed on bare, cold mattress. ¡°...tant.¡±


    Elias frowned, looking around. Even in the darkness, even though the blur, he could tell something was missing. Something with blue wings and a sour attitude. He got to his feet, swayed, sat back down. Tried again, more stable this time. He thought he remembered hearing the door open a few years ago. Could that have been important?


    The next time you see me, I will be a hero. Or I will die trying.


    ¡°Shit.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t remember what his response was, but the sinking feeling in his gut suggested it wasn¡¯t what would traditionally be considered supportive. He had to make this right. Or at least make the boy come home before he made a fool of himself. Stumbling towards the front door, he hit the wall, straightened again, fumbled with the lock for a few days, and then ripped it open. He leaned on the frame in celebration.


    Night had settled heavily on the city, the small torches that lit pathways seemed to only punctuate the darkness. Even the glow from the wide braziers that provided columns of warm updrafts seemed dull tonight. But more than anything, the city seemed impossibly vast. And he had no idea where to begin.


    Elias pushed off from the door, leaving a streak of red from his damaged palm as he started forward along the pathways. He knew better than to try to fly. It was a small consolation that on foot he would be awarded more time to think. You were an investigator once, man! Think! You know how to track down a perp. But this time the perpetrator was his own son. Someone whose head he had tried and failed to get into for the better part of two decades. Elias¡¯ mind was in no state for such a challenge. Still he staggered onward, aiming as best as he could determine for the Hightalon district.


    Where was that boy? He knew better than to go play at night. He wasn¡¯t a strong flyer yet, he told him not to stray too far from the Redquill courtyard. Maybe he had gone to the docks. The little boy had always liked watching the crew of Mollie¡¯s ship. Sometimes they even let him hold the ropes as they tied them off. Elias smirked to himself, remembering the boy -- barely to the waist of the gruff crewmen -- clinging for dear life to a rope that threatened to pull him off his feet, little wings beating to keep his toes on the ground.


    He staggered into a low wall, corrected his course and stumbled into a passing Owl man. The Owl opened his mouth to protest, but Elias snarled first. ¡°Watch where you¡¯re going!¡± He slurred. ¡°Don¡¯chu know who I am?¡±


    His hand came up, finger waggling in the Owl¡¯s face, blood dripping steadily from the gashed palm. The other man¡¯s eyes went wide and he quietly backed away, not answering, and flew up and over Elias¡¯ head.


    ¡°Yeaaah, s¡¯what I thought,¡± he growled victoriously, reaching up to push his hair from his face. The movement left something tacky and cool across his cheek and forehead. His previous train of thought was gone, and he swore angrily. ¡°Stupid soft-wing,¡± he muttered. Where was he going? Meh, he¡¯d remember on the way.


    He seemed to be drifting to the right again, his hip struck the low barrier a second time and this time he had to come completely to a stop to rebalance. This wasn¡¯t right. Something definitely wasn¡¯t right, and he stood quietly for a moment, trying to focus on what exactly it was that wasn¡¯t right. His mouth was filling up with saliva rather quickly, and he turned his head to spit over the walkway.


    A sudden motion before him almost startled him backwards, a Falconwatch landing immediately in front of him. ¡°Sir, are you -- sir are you injured??¡± The man asked, his tone changing quickly. Behind him another landed, reaching up to push her goggles onto her forehead.


    ¡°Injured?¡± Elias slurred, squinting to try and see them through the double vision. Blood streaked his face, smattered his clothes and dripped from his hand. ¡°I¡¯m fine, why aren¡¯t you doing your job?¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± he said, signalling something to his partner. ¡°Of course, Lord High Justice. What are you doing out tonight?¡±


    ¡°What are you doing out tonight? I¡¯m looking for my damn boy. He got away. No. Ran away. He ran a¡­¡± Elias was suddenly frowning, the Falconwatch glancing worriedly to his partner again. Their gaze held an entire conversation in a fraction of a second.


    ¡°Lord High Justice are you alright?¡±


    He was barely able to finish the question when Elias doubled over, vomiting onto the marble pathway, splattering both of their boots. The stink of alcohol and bile became suddenly overwhelming.


    ¡°Ah. Sorry, lad. That feels much better.¡±


    Both Falcons sighed in relief as they saw the Skyguard nightwatch approaching to assist. Without a word, the female took off into the dark sky to spread the word.


    Within minutes the Skyguard, Overwatch and Falconwatch were on high alert. Velius Shadowcaster didn¡¯t like what he had heard. Elias Engelbrecht completely inebriated, streaked with blood. A quick pass by a Falcon reported that the apartment had been left open and there appeared to be signs of a struggle inside. But most worrying was the fact that Roy was missing. His mission was clear. Find Roy and bring him home. He shifted his angle to catch an updraft over a brazier, rising higher over the city.


    The Peacock had his own mission, though he had no idea of where to begin and already he felt like giving up. Become a hero. Simple. All he had to do was find somewhere in need of heroics and perform that role. Easy. But¡­ Where exactly would that be?


    The next time you see me, I will be a hero. Or I will die trying.


    The words sounded so bold in his head, they had sounded so powerful and promising, the way they hung so perfectly in the air in that moment. The strong resolution in his voice. Sure, I¡¯ll just go out to the market, pick up some gull eggs, some bread, maybe a bit of red meat. Oh, and I¡¯ll fill out a form and become a hero while I¡¯m at it. See you at supper! He shook his head, reaching up to tug the white hood of his cloak further down. Rune marched dutifully beside him, occasionally glancing up if looking for reassurance. The pack sat heavily on his back, resting between his wings. Determination kept his feet moving forward.


    Elias had been partially correct. Roy¡¯s first idea was to go to the Docks, see if he could get work on one of the airships. Maybe if he captured a famous pirate he could earn the ¡®hero¡¯ title. After all, how hard could that be? He wanted to laugh at himself, but all he could do was clench his jaw and keep trudging.


    The sudden rush of wind startled him, pushing him back a few feet and blowing his hood. When he regained his footing, he was looking up at a towering black shadow with wings that seemed to stretch on for days. His first instinct was to scramble backwards, certain that Engraal Himself had appeared to claim his soul. Even Rune gave a startled meow and darted behind his legs.


    ¡°Roy,¡± came the gasp. Slowly his vision adjusted to the dark light. This was no skull-headed deity portending death. ¡°By the Divines, I was so worried. Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Velius!¡± Roy cried out in relief, moving forward a few paces. Then he paused, suspicious. ¡°Why are you here?¡± He retreated a step. Lelucas¡¯ seal still felt heavy in his pocket, and he was well aware of the punishment for using a Charm against another Aven, especially in the City. Especially when he had openly announced to the victim of said Charm that his intention was to kill.


    Roy retreated another step.


    Velius frowned, crouching slightly to make himself look less intimidating. ¡°It¡¯s okay Roy, it¡¯s going to be fine. It¡¯s been a very hard night, hasn¡¯t it? Why don¡¯t you come with me for a while?¡± He reached out his arm to the Peacock. Roy stared at the man¡¯s hand for a long moment. The Vulture was heavily muscled, his skin and feathers dark enough to blend with the shadows of the city. However his face was kind and friendly. Familiar. This was someone he had known for years, laughed with, shared with.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± He asked more firmly. Another step back.


    ¡°I know what happened. Everything is going to be okay. Come with me, you can stay at my apartment tonight. Doesn¡¯t that sound nice? We¡¯ll mess with all this ugliness tomorrow.¡±


    So he knew. About which though? If it was only the seal, then he could probably talk his way out of it with Lelucas in the morning. But if it was the Charm¡­ He stepped back again, his heel hitting the small retaining wall. Velius crept forward a step, Roy responded by hopping backwards up onto the wall, wings spread. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Roy, come on. You know me. I¡¯m your friend. I¡¯ll keep you safe, I promise.¡±


    Safe? Safe from what? From punishment? He wracked his brain, trying to think of specifics about the penalty for Charms. Was it execution? Pinioning? Clipping? A stint in prison? A fine? He suddenly realized he didn¡¯t know as much about this as he thought he did.


    ¡°Rune, come here.¡± The cat leapt up into his arms. Velius started to straighten.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re scared, I promise it will be okay. Please just¡­ don¡¯t make me chase you tonight.¡±


    ¡°Even with one wing still injured and laden with a pack, I can outfly you, Velius.¡± Roy said warningly. Rune squirmed under his shirt, pressed against his body tightly.


    ¡°I know you can,¡± Velius conceded without argument.


    The Vulture took another step forward, Roy responded with a step back, his heel hanging over the ledge. There was a flicker of light in the sky behind Velius, a flash of torchlight across goggles.


    Falconwatch.


    Roy shot Velius a look of betrayal and stepped backwards off the ledge. As he dropped, he heard Velius yell and saw the Falcon burst past him overhead.


    He might be able to outfly a clumsy Vulture, but he could never outmaneuver a Falcon. Still, he would have to try. Roy¡¯s arms crossed over his chest to protect his cat, he felt straight down, the levels shooting past him faster and faster. Above he heard the scream of wind from over the Falcon¡¯s wings as she dove after him. Suddenly he twisted his body, spreading his wings at the last second and letting the momentum shoot him backwards. He closed his wings as quickly as he could, letting himself be slammed into the small retaining wall. The backpack cushioned the blow and he quickly stretched himself out on the marble. The Falcon shot overhead, missing him completely.


    When she didn¡¯t return immediately, he cautiously peeked over the wall. A few yards away, she hovered in place, wings beating hard as she looked around frantically for him. Scrambling to his feet, he looped one arm under where Rune¡¯s rump was and made a sprint for the nearby tower. The motion caught her eye and soon she shot upward a few feet, gaining height to put into a dive before tearing after him again. Flying dangerously close to the ground, she was on him in almost an instant. He spread his wings and leapt left-- then fell into a roll and hit the deck again.


    The Falconwatch misinterpreted his motion and cut sharply into open air again. Roy burst out laughing as he rose.


    ¡°Twice? Really?¡± He called to her. She grimaced and turned around, not bothering to dive as she raced after him again. Despite the time lost with the taunt, he reached the tower first and cut a hard right. This tower contained a long spiraling staircase that connected all the levels of Avenholme together to be accessed by pedestrians. It left almost no room for flight.


    The Falcon burst in, skid, and immediately veered right as well, using her wings to help her ascend the stairs in short, fast bursts. After a few hops she realized she should be hearing his footsteps, or have at least seen the tail of his cloak as they circled. She paused to catch her breath.


    Roy snickered as he pushed the hood of his cloak down quietly, backing out of the alcove he had hidden in immediately inside the tower. He had felt sure that she would have seen the cloth moving into place, but she had rocketed past him too quickly to pay attention to her surroundings.


    Stepping back out onto the original walkway, he spread his wings and leapt into the air, trying to get back onto the main level of the city. From out the window of the spiral tower, the Falconwatch yelled in frustration, then called to someone he couldn¡¯t see. ¡°He¡¯s heading for the Translocator!¡±


    He hadn¡¯t been, but now that he had the idea it would be rude of him to make a liar out of her. After all, he¡¯d tricked her three times already. He twisted slightly to see who she was calling to -- and spotted two Skyguard on his tail. Neither of them had weapons drawn, but at the moment that was barely any reassurance. ¡°Translocator it is,¡± he said grimly to himself. Rune let out a muffled meow against his chest.


    He beat his wings furiously, too aware that he was being slowed down by the weight of his pack and the persistent pain in his healing wing. Somehow he wasn¡¯t sure that Maya would approve of his little exercise. He let out a hysterical laugh and pushed himself faster. The Skyguard, a Raven and an Eagle, were closing in fast. He had to make it to the Translocator. And then¡­ well, he¡¯d figure it out after that. There was a twinge of apprehension -- after all, he¡¯d never left Avenholme before -- but the threat of being captured, of losing this game pushed it to the back of his mind.


    A hand grabbed his boot, slipped, grabbed again. He twisted and kicked with his opposite leg. The Eagle backed off, leaving an opening for the Raven to grab onto the bottom part of his pack. Black wings folded and the sudden weight drug him down out of the sky towards the path. With a growl of frustration, he drew his dagger and cut the straps of his pack. The Raven tumbled in the air, but landed safely with only half of his prize. The sudden lightness, however, propelled the Peacock forward and up. The Eagle grabbed again, barely missing him, but now unburdened Roy could get more air between them.


    The Translocator tower was close, a pillar of pristine white that shot high into the sky above Avenholme. In intricate stained glass near the top was the image of a woman in paladin¡¯s armor, wings of pure golden light spread behind her. Imodai, the Goddess of Valor and Honor. Patron Goddess to many of the Aven in his city. Already he could see the guards outside the entrance to the Translocator were starting to move into position to block his way. He needed a moment to think.


    The Eagle on his back wasn¡¯t going to give him that moment. She grabbed at him again, almost catching his pants and he kicked her squarely in the hand. ¡°Sorry!¡± He yelled down as she drew her fingers against her chest, scowling at him.


    ¡°Stop running!¡± She yelled back to him.


    ¡°I¡¯m not running, I¡¯m flying,¡± he replied, working his way into a climb.


    ¡°We just need to talk to you!¡±


    ¡°No, this is chasing. Talking uses words!¡±


    ¡°Then land so we can talk!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no thanks. Good luck with the next chase though!¡± They were high above the tower now, and he could see the smaller stained glass that ringed the tower. Each was designated to one of the Gods. The Gods of Death, of Magic, of Fate, of Trade, of Childbirth, countless others all had their place around the tower.


    Roy glanced down, seeing the Skyguard back off, out of breath. He grinned broader, and was preparing the perfect gloat when he was struck head-on by something much larger than himself. His arms were suddenly pinned to his sides, Rune let out a yowl as she was pressed against another figure. Roy felt hands grapple again his back, forcing his wings to fold, one arm holding them shut, another reaching around to support him around the waist. He yelled furiously and struggled.


    ¡°Roy, stop it, someone is going to get hurt.¡± Velius said, his lips next to Roy¡¯s ear. His voice was as firm as his arms around the younger man. ¡°Well. More hurt. This isn¡¯t good for you.¡±


    ¡°Just let me go!¡± He cried, not sure what else to say.


    ¡°You can¡¯t run from it this time, let me help you.¡±


    Roy pulled his head back, trying to look at the Vulture man. The flight was almost eerily smooth, Velius never once flapped his wings as they glided. ¡°Velius¡­ You can¡¯t help me¡­ I have  to do this.¡±


    Dark eyes locked onto his, questioning. He could see the thoughts running behind those eyes, hunting for the perfect words. The perfect thing to say. Instead, Roy¡¯s hand found its way under the Overwatch man¡¯s leather cuirass, exposing flesh.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, then pinched down with his nails as hard as he could and twisted. Velius yelled, instinctively letting go and reaching for the source of pain. The Peacock dropped.


    The Skyguard was still too close, and as the Vulture tried to right himself, Roy spotted an Eagle and a Falcon closing in too fast. He twisted to turn over in the air, worked his wings into rhythm, aiming for the side of the tower. Too close. They were too close. And the guards had blocked the entrance. It would take a dive to rival a Falcon to break their barricade and as much as he was loathe to admit it, he was tiring quickly. Instead, he aimed for the beautiful stained glass.


    ¡°Forgive me, Kheylana,¡± he prayed, diving towards a window depicting the Goddess of Fate. At the last second he folded his wings tight against his back and brought his arms up to protect his head. The colored glass crashed around him, glittering as it fell with him down towards the brilliant rune of the Translocator pad.


    The guards had not anticipated such a spectacularly destructive entrance, and they stood frozen on the spot. By the time they gathered their senses enough to move, the boy had landed on the pad, staggered into a kneel, then vanished before their eyes.


    The world warped and wavered around him, the feeling of being torn apart and then put back together. It was sickening, disorienting and nauseating. When the world reappeared before his eyes, the air was humid but there was a breeze coming from over the sea. He was in another tower, though much smaller and less ornate. He¡¯d never seen this one before, but now was not the time for tourism. Rune let out a pitiful moan under his vest and he patted the lump that was his cat gently.


    Straightening the cloak over his wings and drawing up his hood, he walked calmly out of the tower as if this were just another day. It seemed that the guards on this side hadn¡¯t been alerted, as neither of them did more than return his polite nod as he passed.


    The ground felt odd beneath his feet, though he couldn¡¯t tell exactly why. He¡¯d never stood on dirt before, and there was a strange novelty to the unevenness over it. The way it shifted and how tiny clouds of it billowed up like dust around his boots. It made him wobble slightly, but he simply kept going, acting as naturally as he could. It only took a moment before he heard the buzz of arcane and a furious yell.


    ¡°Where did he go?¡± It was the Falcon from earlier. ¡°Where did the Aven who came through here go?¡±


    He couldn¡¯t hear the response from the guards, but he turned quickly down an alleyway, trying to move as casually as possible. Another buzz from the portal. Then another. And another. He broke into a run.


    Bolting blindly through the streets, dodging Humans and Yseri and even the occasional Aven, he raced, turning here, dodging there. Unlike Avenholme, the sides of the buildings were dark like the dirt they were built on. His cloak was far too bright here. He had to think of another way.


    The small port town was built on a peninsula, and he could see the sparkling city of Avenholme floating over the water a few miles away. It would be a bit of a trek, but flight to the mainland and back in a day was not unheard of. Roy shook his head. No time for nostalgia. He had to think of his options.


    Between the buildings he could see the forest that rimmed the small town. It was dense, and would make flight between the trees impossible, tracking overhead difficult. His wing was twitching in pain, and he knew that he wouldn¡¯t be able to take to the skies without a long break first. A break he did not have time for. So on foot it is.


    He just had to find a way to move quickly along the ground.


    The Eagle burst out from an alleyway before him, startling him and forcing him to turn sharply. There was a strange building at the end of this road, sectioned into open rooms that all faced the same way, missing the main exterior wall. He couldn¡¯t place why it seemed important until he saw the two Humans talking. One of them was holding the reins of a large, four legged creature. He recognized it instantly as a horse though he¡¯d never encountered one in person before. Horses had a reputation for being the ultimate travel animal, fast, durable and able to carry supplies. Perfect.


    He gave his wings a pump to launch him forward, out of the Skyguard¡¯s grip and closer to the horse and its master. ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± He yelled to both humans, leaping up onto the saddle and snatching the reins from the human. There was a yell of protest as the owner tried to grapple control back, but Roy smacked him backwards with one wing. After a moment of confusion, he pulled the rein in the direction he wanted to go and luckily the horse complied, turning around.


    ¡°Go! Go fast!¡± He yelled and the horse broke into a run. He heard the Eagle give a yell behind him, shouting for the attention of the others. The wind whipped against him, so much like flying but his wings were folded against his back. His feet found their ways into the stirrups and he leaned down over the animal¡¯s neck. The creature moved incredibly fast, and for a moment he thought this might be what it was like being a Falcon. A tug on the reins and they were bursting through the woods, trees flying past on either side but the horse seemed to know exactly what to do to avoid them. It leapt, shifted, dodged, finding safe passage through the foliage.


    After a few minutes of sprint, the horse started to slow and he straightened in the saddle. Rune mewled again, and he let her slip out of his shirt onto the saddle with him. She wobbled a moment, then found her balance atop the moving creature and started to groom herself, occasionally shooting Roy an annoyed glare at the degradation he had put her through.


    He laughed softly, panting and watching the skies above. No shadows of Vulture wings could break through the canopy. The sounds of the Falcon and Eagle crashing through the woods behind him had long since faded. ¡°What?¡± He asked the little calico as she licked her paw, pausing to glare at him.


    ¡°Oh come, now. What hero story doesn¡¯t start with horse theft and evading arrest?¡±

 Chapter 13 - Long Live the King

    He strode proudly into Avenholme, his chest sparkling with medals and a magnificent ornate sword at his hip. Rune rode on his shoulder, her collar decorated with its own awards. All of the City stopped to watch them. He was tall and proud, his wings were more beautiful than any in the Hightalon clan, he was strong and muscular enough to rival any Skyguard. Roy could see Velius in the gathering crowd, beckoning him over, but Roy just smiled and waved. He had a duty to perform first. Aven came from all over the city to watch their procession, following him at a short distance, staring in reverence.


    He was a hero -- greater than Matharell, the Hero-God of Adventurers. His feats were known far and wide, and his reputation preceded him. At the end of the road, he found himself standing before his father. Elias towered over him, but looked down with pride in his eyes. Jacob cowered and cringed beside him, ugly and stupid.


    ¡°Congratulations, son. You are the most beloved Hero of all of Taralensia. I was wrong to ever doubt you. The Library is no place for a hero as great as you. Your place is at the head of a House. No! Even greater! You will be the new King of Avenholme! The ruler of all Aven in Taralensia!¡±


    ¡°Well that is why you named me Roy. You know it means ¡®King¡¯ in the Human tongue.¡± The entire city exploded into appreciative laughter.


    The spectacular crown seemed to appear out of nowhere, coming to rest gently on his head. It sparkled so brightly that the entire City went down on one knee before him. They all were silent in reverence, in the presence of a new Hero-God. His name would go down in the annals of history. All would worship him. Even Jacob.


    Especially Jacob.


    ¡°Fitting,¡± he said charmingly. He glanced to Rune. She too had a crown that sat between her ears. ¡°For my first act as King of Avenholme, I banish you, Jacob, from the City and the skies! You will never fly again and you will never sully my sight with your presence!¡±


    The Eagle grovelled and begged, small and quivering and weak and stupid. So stupid. And ugly.


    Roy pointed at Jacob, and with a dramatic sweep of his hand, the Eagle was cast over the side of the path, falling down to the ocean beneath. But something didn¡¯t seem quite right. The ground wobbled beneath him and the world seemed to shift, spilling him over the edge after Jacob. The two tumbled, Roy crashed into his cousin and their bodies tangled as they fell. The wind rushed past his ears and Roy realized that Jacob had no wings. There was a surge of horror as he tried to push off of the crippled Aven, trying to put some distance between them, but Jacob clutched at him instead.


    Hard hands gripped him, pulled at him as he tried to spread his wings. To fly. To escape. But there was no escape. Jacob clutched his blue wings and pulled them free. Suddenly Jacob was flying -- soaring -- on wings like a dragon, and Roy was still falling, careening towards the sea.


    No not sea. Stone. Below him where there should be water, there was blue glass that moved and swayed, beautiful and impenetrable. He stared at it, transfixed as he struggled to fly, but with no wings he simply fell faster. The glass rolled and swelled beneath him, and then stabbed into the air, a sea of violently glistening spikes. He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came. He struggled to bring his arms to protect himself but found himself helpless as gravity dragged him down into the inevitable. As the spears closed in, he shut his eyes tight and --


    Roy hit the ground with a thud, staring up at a dark ceiling of branches and leaves. The wind rustled them gently, but otherwise the forest offered no answers to clear his confusion. He groaned softly in pain, but made no move to rise. Everything hurt. Every muscle ached, his head throbbed. There was an odd clopping sound, and he turned his head in time to greet a soft grey muzzle. The horse¡¯s lips played at his cheek, then the broad head dipped, the hard snout pushing on his shoulder, rolling him to his side.


    With a groan of protest, he obliged, carefully getting to his feet with help of the strange animal. Rune stood between its shoulders, watching him worriedly. Roy looked around for a moment, trying to remember what had happened. They were in the woods. Of course, now he remembered. He was no hero. He was barely a failed villain, and now he was stuck in a strange area with no idea where to go.


    The memory of the chase, of the Raven who had grappled with his pack. Roy winced, reaching up to rub his forehead. He was stuck in a strange area with no supplies. Something heavy bumped him in the arm, rocking him out of his self-pity. He turned to look at the horse again. Keen brown eyes studied him, dark grey ears swivelled forward. ¡°I guess I¡¯ve got you two then, aye?¡± He asked. Rune meowed from atop the animal, waving a paw at him.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s see how screwed we are. No pack. No supplies. And you aren¡¯t wearing saddlebags,¡± he said to the horse, carefully moving around it. The animal watched him as he circled. A bedroll was tied behind the saddle, as well as a few lengths of rope in different sizes. There was a blanket under the saddle itself, as well as the leather gear along the animal¡¯s head.


    ¡°Very. We are very screwed.¡± He said with a sigh. ¡°Well¡­ It¡¯s too late to turn back now,¡± he said, looking over his shoulder. Though there was a trail, it certainly didn¡¯t qualify as a road. It seemed to have been broken by the daily path of wild animals. What was that called? A game trail? He didn¡¯t know.


    Roy spread his wings, intending to fly above the tops of the trees and get a better idea of the land around them, but his left wing sent a pang of pain down his back and across his shoulder. Maybe it was better to take it a bit easy. So, now what? He moved back around to the head of the horse, reaching up to stroke the dark mane. It was a pretty animal, a deep grey that was almost blue, darker at the legs and head, with a black mane and tail. Along the halter a name was embroidered. Roy smiled slightly. ¡°Sapphire, eh?¡±


    The horse nickered softly, bobbing it¡¯s big head. The long tail whipped across its flanks, dark eyes watching him. He patted the horse¡¯s neck and nodded. ¡°Well, Sapphire, you are officially the most experienced in this little expedition. You have my sympathy.¡± He didn¡¯t bother getting back into the saddle, instead simply moving forward along the game trail. ¡°Let¡¯s find somewhere to stop for the night.¡±


    Walking in a forest was strange to him. The ground wasn¡¯t level, roots stuck up everywhere and stones slid under foot at inopportune times. Every stick he stepped on snapped with the sound of cannon fire. More than once Sapphire turned her ears back to display her displeasure at his awkward fumbling.


    ¡°Yeah, well, you try walking on polished marble with your weird feet and then you can judge me,¡± he retorted. She blew at him, continuing to follow the path. It didn¡¯t take long for them to come upon a clearing. As if to signal its acceptability as a campsite, Sapphire lazily plodded off the track and turned in a slow circle around it. Roy paused, looking around, then nodded in approval.


    He moved to take the bedroll off of the horse, then paused to study the saddle. ¡°...Is this supposed to come off?¡± Sapphire¡¯s head swung around to look at him. He stared at her long face then gave a sigh of frustration.


    ¡°You¡¯re no help.¡± Tossing the bedroll towards an area that looked clear enough to sleep, he started fumbling with the buckles and straps before pulling the saddle off. The blanket slid off with the leather piece and he just looked at it in confusion. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Do you need that? Imodai, I wish you could talk. Whatever, it¡¯s warm tonight, just give me a signal if you need that to not die or something.¡± Sapphire simply looked at him, ears pricked forward in curiosity. He stacked the blanket and saddle together near the bedroll, then looked back at her one last time. The horse looked back calmly.


    ¡°You¡¯re worse than an Owlclan,¡± he grumbled, coming back over to check her again. He wasn¡¯t sure what he was looking for. Horses didn¡¯t have a secret compartment that held supplies, nor did she have an owner¡¯s guide tattooed to her flank. Roy came around to her head, gently taking the leather straps in his hands. He stared at her, willing her to speak.


    ¡°I have no idea how to take care of you,¡± he breathed, resting his forehead heavily against the broad muzzle. Sapphire snorted loudly against his chest. ¡°What do you eat?? How do I feed you? How do I feed myself? This was a terrible idea!¡± He sighed again, stroking her broad cheek as the horse mouthed at the front of his tunic. If she didn¡¯t seem upset, maybe it wasn¡¯t hopeless just yet. Maybe things would look better in the daylight.


    He stepped back, patting her head again before turning back to the bedroll. More straps. Kneeling in the patchy grass, he loosened the straps and unrolled the bundle. To his surprise, a leather bag landed with a thump near his feet. Roy tilted his head, stretching out the bedroll in the grass, before gathering the bag up. Sitting on the soft padded mat, he unhooked the latch of the warbag and upended it, dumping the contents onto the cloth. Some small knick knacks, a folded portrait of a group of people that looked like an adventuring party, some weird loops of thin wire, a second small bag and a whole lot of what seemed like some sort of soft, dried plant matter.


    Dumping out the smaller bag as well, he found a bunch of rocks, a weird looking loop of metal, some black cloth and some jute rope covered in wax. He wrinkled his nose up, picking through the various pieces, trying to puzzle together what it was he was looking at. As he played with each piece in turn, Rune came and curled up in his lap. Eventually he huffed, dropping the metal as he reached for one of the waxed rope pieces. As it landed, it struck a stone and there was a bright flash of light. Roy froze, convinced that he had somehow broken an arcane seal or something equally dangerous. He braced for an explosion. Rune simply looked up at him from between his knees.


    When no explosion came, he reached down cautiously and picked up the metal and the rock. One of the two had caused a flash. The obvious answer was to look for some sort of simple enchantment. He started with the rock. He turned it over and over in his hands, but saw no engravings, no sigils, no sign of magic. Nothing but a few scratches and chip marks. Closing his hands over it and spreading his wings, he shut his eyes and opened his mind to feel for the pulse of arcane, no matter how faint. After a few minutes, he decided that perhaps it wasn¡¯t the rock and moved instead to repeat the process with the piece of steel. Again nothing.


    Roy growled in growing frustration. Holding one in either hand, he studied the metal and the stone closely. Maybe they needed to be joined? There likely wasn¡¯t a trigger word as he hadn¡¯t spoken when the initial light was thrown off. So what was it? He pushed the two together. Nothing. He didn¡¯t see any obvious places where they could be joined. This was getting nowhere. It must be obvious! He was just tired. And the oiled leather pad smelled warm and alluring and slightly like Human. It reminded him of just how tired he was. As Rune purred and kneaded his inner thigh, he watched Sapphire instead.


    The horse seemed content to make her own preparations, moving slowly around the camp area, nibbling at the plants here and there. After watching her for a few minutes, he realized she wasn¡¯t just playing with the grass and leaves, she was eating them. Huh. Well, maybe if he watched what she ate, he could find a way to feed himself. As he studied, he started rapping the metal and stone together thoughtfully. The horse suddenly paused as she came upon a bush, ears coming forward, she started picking through the foliage greedily. Roy tried to see what she was doing in the dark but just then the metal piece slipped against the rock, throwing out another bright flash. He gasped and dropped the two, scrambling backwards and dethroning the cat. Sapphire didn¡¯t seem to notice.


    Carefully he moved onto all fours and crawled closer to the discarded tools. When he was certain they wouldn¡¯t suddenly flare on their own, he picked them up again. This time, he braced himself and very deliberately brought the metal down against the rock. Nothing. He tried again, this time scraping the metal along the side. Still nothing. Roy lost his patience, and with an angry, wordless yell, he whacked the steel against the rock. It slipped, throwing up a spark. He blinked and tried again. Another spark. Slowly everything started clicking into place.


    Fire.


    Fire!! He could make fire! It wasn¡¯t hopeless after all! He pulled the tools closer to him and started investigating them each in turn. The loose plant matter must be something to feed the fledgling flame with. The little box that held the black cloth was heavily charred, so on a whim he tore off a piece and held it on the edge of the flint as he struck it. Within a few strikes, the cloth was glowing in a few points. As he blew on it, the glow became brighter. He gave a childish squeal of delight and leapt to his feet, rushing to gather wood.


    Judging by how small the spark was, he figured that it would need small material first before the flame was strong enough to catch something bigger. Much like lighting his father¡¯s fireplace in his study. The woods were plentiful with fallen branches, and it didn¡¯t take him long to form a suitable pile. Thicker chunks on the bottom, getting progressively smaller with twigs and dried leaves and grass at the top. Again he struck the flint with the char cloth, again he managed to catch a spark. He pushed the tiny ember into a handful of dried grass and started to blow gently. His heart leapt as the smoke started to roll from his hands like an amateur mage. The first licks of flame started to show and holding his breath in anticipation, he set the bundle on top of his little mound of wood.


    Within minutes the small campsite was flickering in a warm orange glow and Roy let out a whoop of glee, forgetting his exhaustion and pain and leaping around the little clearing cheering and yelling like a nomadic Rehk at one of their primitive dances. Sapphire finally turned her head to regard him, lazily chewing on whatever it was that she had found. Grinning like a wild boy, he came over to see what she was eating. The bush she nibbled had thick, vicious thorns, but with her flexible lips and long tongue, she didn¡¯t seem to have a problem getting around them to the berries beyond. Roy grinned. His fingers were easily as flexible as her mouth, and if they were good enough for her, they were good enough for him. Carefully he started to gather the fruit, lifting up the bottom of his shirt to make a sort of basket.


    He pulled as many as he could, the thorns pricking his skin here and there, his fingers starting to become sticky with the slowly weeping blood and juice from broken berries. Sapphire spotted the easier meal and began trying to wedge her big nose beneath his arm to get into the stash. He grumbled and pushed her away, moving from the bush to see what else he could find. The raspberry bushes made a thorny border for most of the small clearing, but there was another interesting bush nearby with long bunches of dark fruit. For some reason, Sapphire was completely uninterested in these plants. Roy shrugged. Her loss.


    The little meal collected, he settled beside the fire, his chest swelling with pride. He could do this! ¡°Look at us, Rune,¡± he said, nibbling on sweet berries. ¡°Set out on our own, starting our own story. We¡¯re going to be heroes before you know it.¡± The cat just leaned up against his thigh quietly, one ear angled towards his voice.


    ¡°I started a fire all by myself. I got a saddle off of a horse. I have a horse, Rune! A real adventuring-horse! I found food!¡± He waved a berry under her nose. The juice stained his fingertips purple. Rune politely ignored him.


    ¡°Delicious, wholesome food,¡± he popped the berry into his mouth and immediately grimaced. ¡°Ok, so the dark ones aren¡¯t as delicious as the other ones¡­ No matter.¡± He quickly picked out the rest of the dark berries and gobbled them up, quickly chasing them with the sweeter raspberries. Once the little meal was done, he wiped his purple-stained hands off, threw a few more pieces of wood on the fire, and retreated to the bedroll.


    The outer layer was treated with something that made it feel weatherproof, and after a bit of poking, he found that it was slit at the top like a bag. The interior was soft sheepskin. The very idea of snuggling down into it after the long day he had had sent a shiver of pleasure up his spine. He put the firebag back together, then stuffed everything back into larger pack. Everything except the portrait. He kept that out for a little bit longer.


    Unlacing his boots and the sides of his vest, he set them both aside and crawled into the sleeping bag, drawing the smaller bag under his head like a pillow. Judging by the wear along its back, he was not the first to use it for such a purpose. In the firelight, he unfolded the portrait again, studying the adventurers. They looked so strong there, so confident. So wise. As Rune crawled into the sheepskin with him, he smiled. He would become just like them. Strong. Powerful. Heroes.


    The adventure he had always wished for had finally begun.

 Chapter 14 - Survival of the Fittest

    14


    Why did I wish for this adventure??


    His stomach heaved and he vomited again, though there was nothing but bile left to come up. He groaned, leaning against the soiled bark, silently thankful that the festivities at the other end seemed to be taking a break. Roy groped for Sapphire¡¯s lead again and continued his stumbling trek forward. His intestines were full of thorn bushes, his head felt like it was on fire and he was completely drenched in sweat despite the cool air. Even though his trek was relatively slow, his heart was pounding as hard as if he had been trying to race a Falcon.


    The water had to be close. It hadn¡¯t seemed like more than a hundred yards from the air. Vomiting in freefall was not something he had wanted to experience an encore of. Again, he felt thankful it hadn¡¯t been worse. Brambles scratched at his bare thighs as he stumbled forward and he grimaced. Thankful it hadn¡¯t continued to be worse.


    Wandering naked through the woods, body rebelling, all his worldly possessions stacked haphazardly on the back of a long-suffering horse was not how he anticipated this story to go. Adventures were supposed to be fun, not¡­ Whatever this was shaping up to be. His stomach churned again, and he limped to the nearest tree, leaning against and waiting to vomit.


    Nope. Not vomit.


    He managed to get a few paces off of the trail, doubled over in pain against the convulsions in his gut. ¡°Just kill me now,¡± he moaned. Sapphire just waited unhappily nearby until they could continue.


    ¡°Poison¡­ Those berries had to be poison¡­ But why aren¡¯t you sick??¡± He asked the horse. She snorted, continuing to push forward. Water. He needed water, he had never needed water so badly in his entire life. Roy¡¯s stomach convulsed again and he fell to his knees, arms wrapped around him gut as he moaned against it. Sapphire looked down as if contemplating stepping on him and being done with it. He wished she would. Another heave and there was no moving off of the trail this time. Once the wave was over, he collapsed into his own vomit and tried to catch his breath.


    After a few minutes of fantasizing about choking on his own bile and ending this hell once and for all, he carefully crawled back to his hands and knees, then up to his feet, pulling on the horse¡¯s halter for support. Sapphire didn¡¯t seem pleased, but the toss of her head yanked him up fully. He released her harness and pushed forward again, barely watching where he was going, simply pushing through the brushes and hoping that sooner rather than later he would find the river he had seen.


    As he stepped over yet another root, the ground dropped steeply under him. He couldn¡¯t correct in time and started to fall forward. Halfway down, his leg gave out completely and he tumbled down the path, through the foliage and over the rocks, landing heavily on his face in what felt like wet gravel. Groaning he pulled his hands under himself to try and get back to his feet, but they slid against the slickness of the stones. It took a moment for the realization to push through the ache in his head.


    ¡°Water?¡± He breathed, his voice raw and raspy. Roy looked up and realized he was on the bank of the small river he had seen. With a desperate cry, he scrambled forward on all fours into the cool stream and immediately dunked his head. Without thinking, he started drinking deeply, momentarily surprised that the water was cool and sweet, not a hint of salt or sea brine. Deeper and deeper he drank, occasionally interrupted by painful surges of vomiting, but he would not be deterred. Sapphire stared at him, then moved further upstream to drink out of range of the absolute mess of a fledgeling adventurer.


    The fire in his guts finally starting to cool, he crawled to a slightly more shallow area and collapsed in the water, letting it lap at him. The worst was over, it seemed, and he closed his eyes to recover and relax. When he opened them again, joints stiff from a hard sleep, the sun was high in the sky above him. It must have been hours, but he already felt better. Sapphire was standing in the shade grazing. The supplies were scattered near the bank where she had shaken them off. Though still feeling the effects of the berries, the urgency seemed to have passed and he was well enough to try and get back on track. Taking another long drink, he waded deeper into the river to bathe, his wings quickly becoming heavy and waterlogged but he didn¡¯t care. It felt so good just to rinse himself clean of the sickness and filth.


    By the time he finally dragged himself out of the water, his skin was turning red from the sun. Rune was sitting on a large rock near the bank, the small explosion of feathers nearby the only indication that she had caught herself a meal. His stomach turned with the idea of putting anything on it again, but he had to start thinking of how to feed himself again.


    Just no more berries. Ever.


    He gathered the pile of belongings into a slightly neater pile, picking out his shirt and pants from the mess and wading back into the water to wash the sick out of them. After a long bout of scrubbing and pounding on the rocks, he decided he was satisfied with the results and spread them out on some of the sun-warmed rocks to dry. He wished he had more than one set of clothes with him, but there was something primal and exciting to be one with nature. Though with the burn coming into his skin, he wasn¡¯t disappointed that it would only be briefly ¡®one¡¯.


    As Roy picked up and adjusted the rest of the gear, properly rolling the bedroll up with the warbag in the middle, folding the saddle¡¯s girdle strap, he wondered if this was how Matharell had gotten his start. He hadn¡¯t learned all the legends of the Hero-God, but the man had to have started somewhere. Maybe he hadn¡¯t been thrust into the woods quite so unceremoniously. Maybe he had had proper training on how to saddle and ride a horse. Or how to make fire. Or how to hunt. He paused, fingers tangled in the fine wire that was in the bag. It reminded him of some of the snare wires he¡¯d used with Maven. Slowly he started to grin.


    Maybe he did know how to hunt after all.


    While his clothes dried, he crouched in the rocks and worked on his traps. He grinned to himself as he scaled down the same snares and nooses that he had practiced on Jacob a year ago. He snickered as he tested a loop, revelling in the snap and spring, remembering the Skyguard¡¯s yell as he found himself dangling by an ankle. He¡¯d tried another time to snare him by a wing, but had misjudged the placement and caught the corner of a passing merchant cart instead. The cascade of wares tumbling gracefully into the sea was beautiful in its own right, but the guilt had put an end to the game.


    It wasn¡¯t a game now though. He¡¯d seen the signs of small animals during his staggering trek out of the woods. The clatter of squirrels jumping from branch to branch, a skitter of leaves as a creature ducked into its hole. Broken shells from some sort of tree-seeds, paw prints that he didn¡¯t recognize. All he had to do was catch one or two of these little scurrying things and viola. Supper. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He glanced over at Rune, who was in the middle of cleaning her face, wondering how hard it would be to teach her to bring him one of her kills. She felt his eyes on her and looked up, narrowing her green eyes as she licked her paw. Very. Very hard. Ah well.


    After a few hours and a lot of tinkering, he had a handful of working snares. His clothes were dry enough for his liking, and he quickly dressed, feeling the soothing coolness against the heat of his skin. Leaving most of his gear and his dagger belt back with the main pile of a campsite, he set off into the woods back the same way he had originally come. Down the game trail, it was easy to find small areas that rabbits or squirrels likely came through. Roy set his fixed wire snares at the mouths and moved on, in some areas picking nearby berries to set on the other side as bait. He wiped his hands compulsively against his shirt for the next ten minutes after handling them.


    Following the trail back down to the river, he paused occasionally to look over his shoulder. He knew that the traps wouldn¡¯t work immediately, but a boy could hope. Besides, he had a rather uneasy feeling being out here on his own. There was a sense of being watched. Roy shrugged it off as nerves. But the feeling didn¡¯t pass when he was back on the riverbank. Sapphire was acting restless, snorting and stamping her hooves every now and then. Roy moved over to the pile of supplies and took out the bedroll, setting it up near the riverbank.


    ¡°I know, girl, I know. The woods are spooky.¡± The sun was starting to set, and he started collecting stone and wood for the fire. This time he ringed it with large stones and stacked the wood inside the circle. He thought of building a spit, like he¡¯d read about in all the adventure stories, but he had no idea where to start with one. Instead, he rolled a large chunk of bleached wood closer to the fire and leaned back against it while he sharpened a couple of sticks into points. In the creeping twilight, looking up at the stars that started to twinkle into view, the fire crackling and flickering before him, there was a real sense of peace. He could hear the nocturnal animals starting to move around and slowly got to his feet. Time to check the snares.


    It was too dark to see, so he grabbed a stick he had planned to turn into a roasting spike. One end had been shattered off by something and formed a gnarled, spikey mess at one end. The boy started shoving bits of leaves and bark in between the edges, creating a big mess of tinder at one end. It wasn¡¯t pretty, but when he stuck it in the fire and let it catch, the top lit up brightly, throwing off light all around him. He grinned proudly and slipped his daggers back in their sheathes, leaving them and the belt with the rest of his bedroll.


    He moved carefully along the trail, trying to be careful not to catch any of the foliage on fire as he moved. The first of his traps was empty, then the second and the third. He was starting to get discouraged the further along his trail he moved. ¡°So this is what adventuring really is. Just one kick in the crotch after another. ¡®Nature provides¡¯ my ass,¡± he scoffed. But as Roy came across his final trap, he heard the sound of scrambling among the fallen leaves. It was a frantic, unpredictable sound. He¡¯d caught something.


    Rushing forward, saw that his snare had caught a rather sizeable rat around the belly. But to his surprise, it was still alive. And it was pissed. Upon seeing him, it let out a furious squeak followed by a growl, a sound he didn¡¯t realize could be so intimidating for something that size. It bared its teeth at him furiously between thrashes that only seemed to tangle it up worse. Roy frowned, not sure what to do. He drove the end of the torch into the ground and carefully crept forward. The rat shrieked and thrashed, even lunging at Roy in an attempt to bite him. The Aven stumbled back a step, not wanting to get in range of its rage. He looked back up the trail, considering going back for his daggers, but even with them, he¡¯d have to get closer than he was comfortable to this ball of fury and teeth. Every now and then it made a horrific noise that bordered on a snarl.


    Shit. Now what? He had to find a way to kill this animal that clearly had more will to live than he did. Even if he wanted to get close enough to release it from the snare, the rat wasn¡¯t going to give him the chance. He thought about just leaving it there and coming back after it had worn itself out, but what was keeping a more opportunistic predator from coming to snatch up a free meal?


    None of this sat well with him, his stomach turned with guilt. As he tried to move closer, wondering if he could just untie where it was attached to the sapling, the rat squealed and lunged again, driving him back. Caught around the gut, it stared at him with black eyes bulging from their sockets, panting in panic. From deep in its belly came a rumbling, surging snarl, making the little beast seem much larger than it actually was. He had to finish what he started, no matter how distasteful. This was no different from how his ancestors hunted. But he couldn¡¯t shake the realization that he was ending a life just to extend his. The rat had committed no crime other than being smaller than him and falling for a poorly executed trap.


    Roy looked around for the tools he had available. There were sharpened sticks back at camp, but they seemed too big for such a small animal, and while they had more reach, they didn¡¯t have the precision to ensure he could kill it quickly. Even with his daggers, he¡¯d have to get too close and the little creature had a way of becoming a blur every few seconds. He had to figure out something else.


    The Aven wandered up and down the path for a few minutes, looking here and there, before his eyes settled on a large, flat stone. Grimly, he picked it up and tested its weight. It was heavy. It was solid. It would work. He turned with a stoic determination and walked back to where the animal was caught. The rat panted as he approached, then started its lunging and snarling all over again. Lifting the rock up over his head, he closed his eyes. ¡°Kataya have mercy,¡± he murmured and brought the stone down as hard as he could. There was a strangled squeak that cut short with the thud of the stone.


    The forest was quiet with an eerie suddenness. His own footsteps as he backed away were deafening in his ears. The crackle and rush of air from the torch seemed to echo as he stared at the stone. The end of the rat¡¯s tail, the only part of the creature visible from under the slab, twitched and spasmed and then too fell quiet. Roy didn¡¯t know what to do. It felt wrong to take it now, but it felt wrong to leave it. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to lift the stone to inspect the state of the carcass. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to just leave it for a scavenger. Between his lack of stomach for killing and the deadly berries, he started to seriously wonder how long he could really go without eating at all.


    He needed to clear his head and steel himself against the anticipated gore. Roy started to walk further up the trail, planning to pace for a few yards and come back, letting himself calm down. He hadn¡¯t planned to move too far out of the ring of light set off by the torch, but as he walked, a heavy branch was set at an angle across the path. Odd, he didn¡¯t remember that being there this morning. Then again, the entire morning was a blur of shit and vomit, not exactly precious memories. Roy moved around the branch, coming slightly off of the trail as he did. Something didn¡¯t seem right, something nagged at him not to go any further, but he ignored it and pushed through to a smaller path.


    As he kicked through a small pile of leaves, there was a sickening flip and suddenly he was flying, crashing through small branches, twigs slapping his face. He bounced for a moment, then realized he was hanging by an ankle, wings splayed at odd angles. Roy tried to bend at the waist and untie whatever had caught him, but the knot was too tight. He hung back down again, grunting in frustration. Already he could feel the blood rushing towards his head. He sat up again, this time pawing for the rope that held him, but it was too thin to get a good grip on. He was uncomfortably reminded of how ridiculous Jacob had looked dangling there. How futile his struggling flails had been.


    Roy flapped his wings, trying to right himself, but he only succeeded in putting a slight spin in the way he was dangling. He had to stay calm, he had to think rationally and figure out how to get out of this. Maybe if he could just wriggle his boot off¡­


    His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. First one set, then another. And another.


    Then suddenly, the forest was not so quiet anymore.