THE TEAM MOVED OUT in close formation, making the most of the pre-dawn quiet. Ashueli rode Dragonback with Sabline, while Allory took her usual seat atop Yaarah’s flowing golden locks. The Chameleon Fae split themselves evenly between the two Felidragons, gathering close to provide the initial camouflage of clouds, rocks and scenery. This would not stand up to close examination, but was sufficient for a cool, overcast morning.

Allory squinted ahead into a blustery breeze sweeping in from the left fore-quadrant. A steady twenty minutes’ flying had brought them to the end of the column maze and out into unfamiliar terrain, a great, grassy plain that stretched as far as the horizon. The grass was a blue-grey colour that played tricks with the eyes, which was odd enough, but odder by far was the fact that she could not see a single animal out there.

Having been primed for a panoramic vista dominated by animalistic mayhem and carnage, this bemused Scintillant viewed … nothing.

She heard nothing. Not so much as a gerbil breaking wind.

Plenty of nothing.

No cover. No bushes. Not a single growing thing taller than her knee. Yawning bleakness stretched out to wide horizons a jungle-born Fae most emphatically did not wish to think about.

Allory felt naked out here. The sky pressed down, unrelenting.

“Uh, Yaarah –”

“Shh. They’ll hear you.”

Squint and peer and extend her magical senses as she might, this had to be a joke on the little Fae. Allory did not appreciate it one bit.

She complained, “Friend Felidragon, I see neither leaf nor branch out there. Are you sure –”

“Allory, don’t be so impatient.”

“Do you mind if I finish a –”

“Don’t let me stop you,” he purred.

“Yaarah!”

She kicked his shoulder. Better still, she leaned over to take his left ear hostage, and gave him a few pieces of her mind right down the ear canal. Zesty pieces. This led to a hushed confession that he was also a touch hazy on the location of the supposedly abundant local wildlife, enter the disembodied voice of Princess Ashueli, speaking from amidst her personal thundercloud:

“The lay of the land is tricky, not only because it appears so flat, but because the grass blends in with both sky and stone, waving subtly even when there is no breeze,” she explained in a low voice. “Look for the very slightly darker horizontal lines out toward the horizon. Those are actually ridges – aye, I know the illusion looks impossible, but an illusion it is. The herds like to rest in the lee of those. In addition, many of the migration paths have been grooved so deep over the millennia that this canyonland has existed, that they will shelter even the largest Giants from casual view.”

“Fascinating,” Yaarah put in.

“In a treacherous way. Many creatures here have learned to hunt using innovative methods,” Harzune’s voice put in. “Let’s move quickly and quietly into position. A league sun-spinward is our first target location. Go.”

Allory was glad everyone else knew where he meant. Yaarah and Sabline immediately turned their invisible muzzles a little to her left hand and they flew out, whisper-quiet over the waving grasses. So serene. The song of this land was that of guile, of cunning things lurking close to the surface yet hidden from sight. Scanning her surrounds as she had been taught by Sabline, she caught sight of a flock of light blue reptilian birds skimming low over the grasses about half a mile off.

“What are those?” she breathed.

“Mezurdactyls, or flighted lizard-birds,” said Harzune. “Something scared them. Watch closely –”

“Eep!” She clapped a hand to her mouth, too late.

“Allory!” Yaarah growled.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t half hit a note that carries, frrr-hsst.”

A purple noose had just whizzed up from nowhere and snared one of the fliers. Down it went into the waving grasses, but not without a struggle. They heard its grating squawks as wings flapped furiously, feathers exploded into the air and grey bodies heaved briefly like a shoal of fish mobbing a tasty scrap. The other mezurdactyls scattered, cawing in wild alarm, but two more fell victim to snares that Allory concluded were actually the very long tails of hyper-springy green lizards, one of which had leaped over fifty feet into the air to make his catch.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, that last mighty leap was a mite too high. The mezurdactyls converged with one mind, their long, beaked jaws snapping viciously. Allory averted her eyes.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“The hunter becomes the hunted,” the Chameleon Fae added soberly.

“I take it we should avoid that area, mrrr-hrrr?” Yaarah inquired.

Harzune said bleakly, “Unless you’d like to join the scrap for breakfast? Always an option out here.”

“I’m not becoming anyone’s breakfast!” Sabline snarled, but softly. “Ah, frrr-prrrt, I see …”

Although for her part she most emphatically did not wish to see, Allory decided that those who did not want to be snacked upon by eager, toothy reptilian jaws had better be those who wisely paid attention to their surroundings. For as if summoned unto the banqueting table, the plains in every direction began to stir with animal life. Birds which had rested on the ground stretched. Huge reptiles groaned and shuddered as they limbered up. A kind of eerie murmuring rose from the throng as heads and shoulders popping up here and there among the grasses, their plaintive voices accompanied by the rustling of wings and a scraping of armoured hides.

At once, Harzune said, “Stay extra alert, everyone. Something’s wrong. This is at least an hour too early.”

Sabline hissed, “What should we do?”

“Find a friendly ride. Fast,” he ordered. “Anyone see any argumasaurs?”

“Ah, maybe that hill?” Allory offered, pointing far off to their right. “I thought I sensed –”

“Well, mrrr-frrr, I don’t,” Yaarah put in.

Full-throated on the encouragement there, friend? She scowled at the top of his skull, wishing her fiery glare could bore a few holes into his overstuffed skull and let out all the pomposity.

Fifty Chameleon Fae stared in the direction she had indicated. Various heads, antennae and arm bracelets were scratched before Varzune crowed, “Well, fizz my sap, the precious Scintillant’s right! Look!”

Precious? Allory aimed her most scathing scowl at a new target. She’d froth and scramble his sap for breakfast, that rude manfae!

“What are we concluding from the sight of a whole one horn?” the Sabrefang purred mildly.

“Not being funny here,” Harzune put in with urgency that stilled any banter, “but listen up. Chameleons, charge!”

Eerily, all of the animals in sight appeared to be stumbling to their feet, paws and talons now. The chorus of complaints swelled by the second. The reptilian kind, from the bipedal sprinters to the mighty octopedal plant-eaters, groaned because they did not like to move before they were warm. Sluggish yet fractious, they bunted one another into a walk with their shoulders. In several cases, Allory observed the enormous animals fell right over, so drowsy were they. Same with the reptilian birds. Numbers of those trying to take off from the ridges fell awkwardly as their cold muscles seized up. They were trampled underfoot, unheeding. The smaller mammals voiced their discontent at the proximity of predators or the danger posed by those shambling mountains.

The herds were immense. Straight ahead, a half-mile beyond their target, a herd of quadrupeds, sporting massive neck plates, seven sweeping horns and spiked tails, ambled up into sight and over the brow of a ridge, tens of thousands strong. Ahead of them, brilliant yellow wings caught the strengthening sunlight, making Yaarah mutter and glance up at Middlesun. To their left, a flock of reptilian fliers launched into the air, occluding the horizon for miles.

So many, but what was driving them to move against their will, to behave so out of character?

Allory pondered this as the two Felidragons powered across the grasslands, keeping about fifty feet off the ground. The Chameleons massed around them, slipstreaming the larger beasts as they winged along in search of a suitable target. Harzune called for complete quiet. He jabbed a finger toward an enormous, humped back heaving along behind the ridge.

Yaarah and Sabline eased their wingbeats into a fast, silent glide.

The sheer scale of the argumasaurs became apparent as the group crested the ridge and made their strike. The eight-legged reptiles could overtop two hundred feet in height at the shoulder. The grizzled male in the lead, the alpha of this herd, was half as large again. His mounded grey shoulders obscured both the horizon and sky from her perspective. The herd rumbling along behind had to be over one hundred individuals strong. Their house-sized feet shook the ground where they passed. Yet they did not tear up half as much grass as she had imagined, Allory noticed. It must be incredibly tough to survive this kind of daily pummelling.

Extending his talons, Yaarah found a grip on the mottled grey hide not right at the top, but behind a shoulder and about twenty feet down the slope of its flank. The world shimmered as the Chameleons deployed their second disguise, shifting from clouds and hills to hide. In a second, Sabline landed just five feet away with a deft wing-tuck, and vanished. Allory sensed her presence, but that was it. Aha, and she had shifted closer, coming right up to Yaarah.

“Warrior power snuggle?”

“What was that, Allory?” Sabline murmured with melodic murderousness.

She turned a heated shade of sapphire. “Sorry. Thinking aloud. Terrible habit.”

Harzune’s voice said, “At least she does think, eh, Varzune? Now, let’s embed our illusions. Whispers only. Team. Thoughts regarding this behaviour? Analyses, please.”

They held a short conference in hushed tones, made considerably stranger by the fact that they could hear but not see one another. No-one had any idea. Even she of the allegedly sensitive materials sensed nothing out of the ordinary – but this whole awareness of atypical conduct settled down in her mind and finally dredged up a few recollections. That time in the rainstorm when Yaarah had suddenly begun to spout dippy, drippy nonsense. The barmy Giant army. Now, this mass misbehaviour of the entire animal population of these grasslands. What could it all mean? A mental attack so subtle as to be undetectable, yet on a scale as vast as the Canyonlands?

How could this be possible?

As the day progressed, Allory kept this observation foremost in her thinking as she watched the terrain slide by with speed that increased as the animals warmed up, but then steadied. The sky cleared during the early afternoon. As they crested another low ridge, the nature and scale of the unnatural migration became clear. Millions of animals were on the move in the sky, on the ground and even under the ridges, through tunnels carved out over millennia. While the sunshine was welcome, it also presaged unremitting attacks by reptilian birds which landed in droves upon the backs of the argumasaurs to feast on parasites they dug out of their hides with long, sharp beaks. No illusion was much use when a bird tried to peck a hole in Yaarah’s hindquarters!

Harzune said that their group was in no especial danger, that this was just a side-effect amidst the steady hunting and feasting going on in all quarters now. Their position kept them above the larger ground-based predators while the clever camouflage prevented them from being targeted from the air. The troubling factor, as they discussed once more, was how strangely all the animals were acting, moving in one direction as if intent on reaching a central destination, perhaps a day’s travel ahead now. The Fae agreed that it must be the place the four main trails crossed.

Allory observed and waited.