Several hours later night had pulled its dark cloak over the sky, and an inky blackness had fallen over the wild. Distant beasts called out, chirruped, and rustled through the woods below, but in the hollow of the treetop it was eerily quiet. The owls had taken up their perches in the branches, encircling the hollow entirely. The area there, which Pug now realized had been artificially flattened to make a place for offerings and landbound creatures who came to address the court, would be the arena for their duel. Across the smooth wooden circle stood Owen, hopping side to side in his eagerness to begin. At least, that’s what Pug assumed. Honestly, the owl was nothing more than a slightly lighter blob against dark backgrounds, the clack of its talons impacting the wood resounding rhythmically informing Pug the bird was moving. The moon was waxing, and it should have been bright tonight, but the canopy above blotted out the majority of the light.
Unsettled by his relative helplessness, Pug reached out a hand and grabbed for Lina. The distracted gnome let out a little squeak as his hand found her, not expecting the sudden contact. Pug paid it no mind, pulling himself closer to her as he tried to feel less exposed. Lina leaned in herself, bringing her mouth close to his ear as she whispered to him, her hot breath tickling his ear.
“This isn’t much of a plan you know.” She said, still skeptical.
“You have anything better?” Pug asked archly.
“No…”
“Then by default it's a great plan.” Pug smiled, convinced he could feel her rolling her eyes at him. His amusement was cut short as the Owl King spoke.
“My family, we are gathered here to bear witness to this duel to settle my son’s perceived slight against the martens/ This duel is held in accordance with the law of the Wylde and the Court. As is custom, the duel will run until one side surrenders or dies. Are there any objections?” The Owl King waited to allow for any concerned parties to make their objections known. Pug shivered as the allotted time passed without remark, the Owl King’s voice once again seeming to come from the shadows all around the fairy. “Are the combatants ready to begin?”
Tourmaline gave Pug’s upper arm a squeeze as the fairy called out his acknowledgement to the Owl King. She broke away from him, making sure the pair had enough distance to avoid being taken out all at once. The Owl King signaled the beginning of hostilities with a piercing hoot. Pug brought his spear up in front of him in an attempt to ward off a frontal assault, at least. He could vaguely perceive a large blob disappearing into the murky shadows of the canopy, a gust of wind confirming the owl had taken wing.
Silent flight is terrifying when you’re on the other end of it. I have no idea where he is. Pug thought to himself, gorge rising as desperation and fear gnawed at him.
He tilted his head back and forth, looking with his peripheral vision where he could, though it was only marginally better. Seeing twisting shadows in the darkness instead of pure darkness wasn’t at all reassuring. His ears picked up nothing, and whatever other senses he had were drowned under his instincts screaming at him to run. He held himself in place with sheer will, trusting Tourmaline to support him.
She’s weak but you’re blind! He reminded himself sternly, just as Lina called out.
“On your left!” She cried, voice shrill.
Pug snapped around in an instant, bracing his spear against the floor just before something slammed into him with tremendous force. His breath was knocked from his chest, but he was rewarded by a warm spatter of blood soaked his hands and flecked his face. His spear was torn from his hands as he was forced to the ground, the convulsing and shrieking owl pinning him. He gasped futilely for air, pushing against the sharply taloned food held him. Pug knew he was blessedly lucky his spear had struck true, the wound distracting Owen and preventing the owl from finishing him, but he didn’t have long before the owl returned to task.
The fairy’s hands traced the outline of a gnarled and knobbly toe to a smooth talon, figuring out just how Owen had him pinned. Mice in his position were generally rapidly eviscerated, however he was no mouse. Pug freed his dagger and snaked his arm free of its position by his side, though it was awkward and painful to extricate it. The owl’s foot was scaly and tough, but Pug thought of one particular weakness. Turning the knife and stabbing forward, he slid the blade along the talon to its root, where it met the skin, and wedged the blade as deeply into the crevice as he could. Then, he twisted it and pushed it against the talon, using it for leverage. Doing so he was able to tear the blade through the flesh and scaled skin at the base of the talon, what would be the cuticle on another being. This resulted in what was, essentially, the worst hangnail Pug had ever seen, earning a pained squawk from the owl.
Owen shifted and turned, his focus on Tourmaline as the gnome harried him from a safe distance. As the bird’s torso twisted something cracked across Pug’s face, eliciting a cry of pain from the fairy that achieved a sick harmony with the shriek of pain from the owl. Hearing the owl's pain Pug realized what the foreign object must be, and dropped his dagger to grab at it, finding the blood-slick shaft of his spear, pushing it deeper into the owl’s chest. Owen didn’t care for this sudden assault, rearing back to retreat from the spear and, in doing so, alleviated some of the pressure on Pug’s chest. The Owl Prince was apparently fed up with the little fairy continuing to be a nuisance, as Pug felt his mass bear down on him, only held at bay by the sharp head of the spear which buried itself deeper into his flesh as he pushed against it.
“‘Ware!” Tourmaline called out, prompting Pug to screw his eyes shut tightly.
Her intervention couldn’t have come at a better time, as the butt of the spear slipped from its holdfast in the wood beneath him, and his arms buckled and gave way under the weight of the owl. Something hissed as it whistled through the air towards him before it terminated its arc somewhere above him, an earsplitting crack resounding through the night with deafening intensity. Simultaneously a ferociously bright sun flared to life on the other side of his eyelids, painfully bright even behind closed eyes, and a wash of heat warmed his face. However bad it was for him, however, it must have been worse for Owen who was looking right at the source of the light with his wide, nocturnal eyes. The keening the owl made was felt rather than heard, since Pug’s own ears were ringing in the aftermath of the detonation, but the agony was evident. Pug felt the beast rear back, pulling himself free of Pug’s spear as the fairy maintained his grip, the owl falling to the ground with a thud.
Pug opened his eyes and was surprised to find, even though dim, he could somewhat see in the aftermath of the explosion. Popping up to his feet he jumped onto the prone Owen’s chest and sprinted along the length of his body. Upon reaching the neck he twirled his spear about and plunged it into Owen’s mouth, silencing the keening with a squawk. Owen attempted to stand and shake him off, but Lina arrived just as planned, stomping on one of the owl’s legs. Her strength and mass meant the bones crunched immediately, and Owen squawked an exclamation of pain past the spear in his mouth but stopped trying to shake him.
“Concede.” Pug said flatly.
The fairy was resolved to finish the fight one way or another, and it had to end before the specks of light, which he was seeing by, faded. If it came down to it, Pug would kill the Prince before darkness took hold again. Owen met his eyes, full of spite and anger, only to deflate upon seeing the resolve there. A moment’s more of hesitation, and the owl spoke.
“I concede.” He hooted softly.
Pug turned his gaze to the Owl King, the only one of the avian court who seemed unaffected by the flash bomb. The King eyed him silently, and Pug couldn’t read what he was thinking. After what felt like an eternity he straightened, making his already tremendous bulk even more evident.
“Unfortunately, it seems to me you lost the duel, and died in the attempt.” The Owl King said simply. “A tragedy to be sure.”
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“Excuse me?” Pug croaked, throat tightening.
“Thanks to my foolish son, a war with the martens is inevitable. Our only chance, given how weak we are now, is to strike first.” The Owl King explained, not unkindly. “I can’t take the chance you’ll warn them.”
“We won’t be in a position to tell anyone anything once we get to the Hearth.” Pug pleaded.
“It matters not, the risk is too great to leave a loose end like you running around. You’d likely come to the martens’ aid if they asked, and after your performance today I can safely say I don’t want them to have access to an asset like yourself, or your alchemist friend there.”
“Hey, hey! I’ll really kill him!” Pug warned as the Owl King hopped from his perch onto the floor of the arena, regarding his son Owen who looked at him piteously.
“I have other sons, this one was a bit of a dolt anyways. Do you have any last words?” The King asked. “I want to assure you, no harm will come to either of your peoples. I bear you no ill will, it's just bad luck you’re in this situation.
“Bad luck?” Pug laughed bitterly. “It's been nothing but bad luck since I left my village.”
Pug looked over his shoulder at Lina, her form becoming nebulous and vague in the growing darkness as the lights floating around them winked out. He could see she was holding a small glass orb in her hand, their last resort in the event the flash bomb didn’t pan out. She assured Pug the contents of the orb, when mixed with the smaller glass vial inside it, would create a toxic mist. It was viciously lethal, which was why the gnome was backing up to the edge of the tree trunk. She met his eyes and nodded, her lips thinning into a determined line.
They grow up so fast. Pug thought with a mirthless chuckle. She’d fully fallen into the adventuring role now. The fairy braced himself, preparing to sprint to the edge of the arena and leap off into the void of night below. He’d be able to slow their fall enough for it to not be lethal, though they’d be in a bit of a predicament.
"That's very kind of you, your Majesty. But no, I don’t think we have any words for you.” Pug spat, words barbed and bitter.
The Owl King looked at him with grave disappointment, as though let down Pug had no parting shot to give him. He made a gesture with his wing and the owls encircling the arena tensed, readying themselves for their assault. Tourmaline lifted her glass flask overhead threateningly. In the midst of the chaos, as Pug prepared to leap from the tree and catch Tourmaline, he paused as he saw long, sinuous forms drop from the boughs above, their squirming shapes difficult to distinguish from the shadows.
Each owl was beset by three or four of these shadows, shadows twisted and climbed along the large birds until they were able to get at their throats. Other owls succeeded in keeping their assailants from their most vulnerable areas, letting out frightened chirps as the shades tore at them with vicious snarls. Dark stains, which Pug presumed was blood, spread across their feathered coats. In moments the owls, who had been poised to strike down Pug and Tourmaline, were detained or dead. Lina was so shocked the poisonous flask nearly fell through her numb fingers, forcing the gnome to scramble to catch it. Pug watched nervously, his attention torn between the deadly weapon his friend was fumbling with, and the two shadows broke off from the rest to approach them.
“Now that,” the shadow on the left began, his voice familiar. “That would have been the right kind of situation to use the emergency signal.”
The tenebrous forms resolved themselves into Slink, as well as an older, grayed and scarred marten. Pug and Lina both sagged in relief, the former withdrawing his speartip from its position a finger’s breadth from Owen’s eye, and the latter throwing herself into a panic as her fingers, numbed with relief, nearly dropped the flask onto the floor. She rapidly disarmed the flask, pouring the clear fluid out of the orb and pulling the yellow vial free.
Pug gratefully stepped away from the defeated Owen, handing the Owl Prince off to a marten enforcer before moving to greet his friend, Tourmaline just behind him. Pug eyed the older marten curiously, uncertainty pressing to the fore as he noticed the deference Slink gave to his elder. Pug stopped himself short of the pair, tentatively introducing himself and Tourmaline. Completely worn out by the day’s events, he wasn’t at all affected as Slink introduced them to the Don of his family. Luckily the Don seemed to have his hands full managing the sudden coup he had subjected the owls to, and hardly noticed or cared for their rudeness.
“Slink! I thought you’d left?” Lina cried, admonishment coloring her voice.
“Well, I had to share some information I was giving regarding just how many owls were at Court. Plus, we had to retaliate for the attack against our pup.”
“You had an informant?” Pug asked, curious. “The mayor?”
“Yes and no. He was simply passing along a message from his patron.” Slink said, nodding to an owl, the only one with no guards shepherding her, who sat deep in discussion with the Don. Pug realized belatedly the owl was none other than Danica.
“What does Danica get out of all this?” Tourmaline asked, looking at the owl.
“Well, somebody has to lead the owls after all of this.” Slink gave his best approximation of a shrug. “We get a friendly owl in charge, and she gets to prevent any more of her family dying for the King’s ambition. We weren't the only enemies he made with his attempts at conquest.”
“It’s about damn time there was an Owl Queen.” Tourmaline muttered, earning a grin from Pug as he nudged her with his elbow to quiet her antics.
“I’m glad you guys have overcome your political strife and all, war averted and everything, but she was going to take us to Jet.” Pug said, exhaustion starting to seep into his words. “What are we going to do now?”
“I’m still more than happy to assist you with .” Danica cut in, her voice smooth and pleasant, completely unruffled by her violent overthrow of the previous regime. “After all, I do have you to thank for my sudden promotion?”
“You do?” Pug wondered.
“Indeed, you two made the perfect distraction to catch the Court off-guard. We took far fewer casualties, on both sides, than we expected.” Danica eyed her fellow owls where they sulked under the watch of the martens.
Relief hit Pug all at once, dropping him to his knees as the tension left him. He couldn’t help but laugh, a soothed sort of chuckle rose out of him for no better reason than the simple reality he was no longer under the threat of death. The duel had been a far closer thing than he would have liked, and he’d nearly despaired when the Owl King refused to honor their victory. He hardly looked up as the Don approached, eyeing Pug warily.
“Is the kid alright?” The Don asked gruffly.
“Yeah boss, he’s just… been through a lot over the past couple days.” Slink reassured, using his tail to pat Pug on the back.
“Good, I’m not going to put anyone in danger by inducting a liability into the family.”
“You’re inducting us into the family?” Pug cried, the incredulity of the idea causing another cascade of giggles. “We’re not even martens!”
“I hadn’t noticed .” The Don said dryly, his tone and posture effectively conveying to the fairy it was time to settle down and pay attention.
“What you are, are two people who saved my child and aided one of my most trusted lieutenants. Truly, this is the least I can do for you. Now, hold out your right hand, both of you.”
Pug and Lina did as he bid, holding their hands out in front of them. Quick as lightning the Don struck, biting each of them on the wrist and though he only nicked them, it burned wickedly. Pug pulled his hand back with a hiss, checking the severity of the wound. To his surprise he saw no wound at all but instead a tattoo of a marten wrapped around his wrist like a bracelet. One look at Lina confirmed she had the same, her eyes wide with wonder as she inspected it.
“This mark identifies you as a member of my clan. Please, do everything you can to be worthy of it.” His reward issues, the Don sighed, looking at the owl prisoners. “As much as I’d like to stay and chat, I have other business to take care of. We’ll manage them long enough for Danica to take you where you need to be.”
The Don turned and walked away, snapping orders at the guards and their owl prisoners. The martens began to drag the birds away, working in teams to herd them. Pug wasn’t sure what would happen to the unfortunate birds, but he imagined it wouldn’t be too terrible. Danica would want subjects, after all. Pug glared at the Owl King as he was pulled away, the unknowable intelligence behind the large owl’s eyes glittering with malice.
Slink said his goodbyes, promising to stop by once everything was settled and they returned with Jet to explain just what being a part of the family meant for them. Danica waited for them patiently, flaring her wings dramatically as the pair approached. With little fanfare she grabbed the pair in her talons, leaving them dangling as she took off into the night. Despite the discomfort of being caged in the grip of a ferocious hunter high in the air above the forest floor, Pug felt himself begin to drift off. Across from him Tourmaline had already fallen asleep, exhausted by the recovery of her wounds and the stress of the day. Pug allowed himself a hopeful little smile as his eyelids closed, finding himself lacking the will to open them.