A polite knock interrupted them. An inconspicous butler entered, followed by two maids.
“Welcome, dear guests. We have prepared rooms, where you can refresh yourselves. If you would please follow me.” The butler bowed.
“That is a wonderful idea, don’t you think?” Kaska pushed Stooge out of the room. “Pray tell, where are these wonderful rooms?”
The two maids curtied, one saying in a peaceful tone: “Please follow us.”
Grumbling, Rethia glared after them.
“Please, this way, milady.” The butler pointed into the other direction with another polite bow. “Sir Embrasen would like to talk to you.”
Rethia looked at the butler, glared down the corridor where the two Wanderers had gone and scrunched up her nose.
“Lead the way, then.”
Down the corridor, they went. Through a medium sized hall and out into the garden.
“Here we are, milady.” They stood in front of an artistically woven pavilion, the filligree work reminding her of spiderwebs and cursed mist. Gasping, she took a step back, pulling her wings up as far as the cloak allowed, in an attempt to protect herself.
“I used to love this pavilion. After those spiders, I won’t be able to see it in the same light ever again,” chuckled Hagfar sadly. He sat at a round table, crunching on a cookie. “I guess I’ll have to tear it down or learn to live with the memories it brings. Please, sit down. And you can remove the cloak, if you want. No one in this house will point their fingers at you.”
Rethia took several deep breaths, reminding herself that the spiders were several days away and that this couldn’t be their webs, since it didn’t produce that cursed mist. Listening to Hagfar helped, too. As did the promise of sweet treats.
Wary, suspecting the pavilion to drop in on itself and wrap around her, she stepped into it. When nothing happened, she took another step, until she was next to the table.
In her claws was still the wooden map, which she now carefully laid down, to grab one of the cookies.
Sven rushed out from under her cloak and fell upon the selection of cut fruits. She giggled at the sight, and Hagfar laughed. The butler blended into the background with a professionally content smile.
“These are delicious. Thank you.” Only after the third cookie, did she remove the cloak and set it over the back of a free chair. But she didn’t sit down.
The butler narrowed his eyes a little and vanished without a sound.
“But you didn’t ask me here to give me sweets, did you? What did you find out?” asked Rethia.
“Have a seat, milady.” The butler appeared right next to her, pointing at the optimal perch. The wood was just thick enough to be comfortable for her talons, and just high enough to both reach the cookies on the table and allow room for her tail feathers.
Baffled and delighted, she took the offered perch. “Thank you. A stool would’ve done the trick. You didn’t need to go out of your way. It’s very comfy.”
The butler blended into the background once more, with his professional smile and a content nod.
“Really, it’s perfect! Where did he get such a wonderful perch so quickly?” asked Rethia, shuffling around a little to test her perch.
“Haha. That’s a butler for you. I’ve wondered about that many times before, but that’s the Way of the Butler, as he always tells me.” Hagfar leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you ever manage to get his secrets out of him, let me know.”
Hagfar straightened and turned into a business man, completely different from the person she got to know during the trip from the mountains. “I’ve found out why the guards have been acting so strange, and why they immediately sent for the city leaders. Wyverns are roosting in the cliffs just north of the city. There had been rumors and a few rare sightings before I left for Fields End. In that time, their numbers have grown and there have been several attacks on fishing boats, herds and even large cargo vessels! There are hunting requests at the adventurers guild, but wyverns are tricky beasts. They first attack the archers and mages of any group that tries to hunt them. But without long-range attackers, they can’t be grounded and put to the sword. I think the guards saw your arrival as an answer to their prayers and immediately informed their superiors. The city leaders.”
“Wyverns. This close to the ocean? I always thought they prefered mountains, where they can roost far from danger. Like any sane creature would.” (Rethia)
“Aerial creatures, you mean. And no, wyverns can be found wherever there is rough or impassable terrain. They are a plague! And sadly, cliffs at the coast are often riddled with caverns.” (Hagfar)
Rethia stared at his outburst.
“Even without talking to them, I know that they will ask you to fight against the wyverns. And I won’t be able to stave them off forever…” (Hagfar)
The words took a moment to sink in, to actually register in her mind.
“What?! Me fighting wyverns? I’ve never fought anything! - Hunting doesn’t count. - The first and last time I met some wyverns, I barely escaped with my life! I can’t do this! I can’t even fly as well as Isatha! I’ll be ripped to shreds!” shouting, Rethia flapped her wings about in grand flustered gestures, scattering cookies and crumbs and dander everywhere.
Sven watched the outbreak without batting an eye, saving cookies by tucking them into a pouch. Hagfar covered his eyes, but otherwise remained silent, waiting for Rethia to calm down again.
“That is not all.” (Hagfar)
“There is more?!” screeched Rethia, feathers fluffed up to near double her size.
“Here is a warning for my savior: Don’t trust people so blindly. Few do anything without expecting something in return. Specially them Wanderers. Be wary of them. I can see it in their eyes. They are waiting, bidding their time, but they do nothing – absolutely nothing – without expecting something in return. If not now, then later.”
“But… Kaska… I mean… they’re not like that… they are almost like friends…” blubbered Rethia.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Hagfar shook his head. “We can talk about this after you decide what you want to do: Fight the wyverns, or leave this city. If you leave, I would advise you to avoid this area here.” He circled several cities on the wooden map. “As far as my people know, they have all been attacked by the wyverns roosting in our cliffs.”
Rethia flapped her wings half-heartedly, ruffling her feathers and shuffling around on her perch. Her talons scratched furrows into the hard wood.
To fight… or not to fight… and what about Kaska and Stooge? Trustworthy? Not trustworthy? Well, they do keep many things from me… but I’ve become accustomed to them… no, that’s not important right now! Wyverns. There are wyverns roosting in the cliffs, attacking the Landbound. Either I stay and fight, or I flee and won’t be able to enjoy this city. Well… I am looking for the First Settlement. Who am I kidding?! It could be anywhere! Hints to it could be anywhere! The next city over! Or right here. If I run away, I won’t find out anything. I have a contact here.
Isatha said that contacts are important. Hagfar already said that he would introduce me to one of their loremasters. In another city, I’ll have to meet a loremaster on my own. Maybe they have stories they are not allowed to tell to outsiders! And what then?
But… wyverns… how many are there? Just ten? Or more?! I barely escaped from three! … and I did promise that I would fight them next time… isn’t that now? I’m scared. What if I’m not fast enough? Not agile enough? I’ll die!
Her heart boomed in her ears. Her view narrowed down until she saw but a single crumb on the table. It grew ever larger, until it took up the whole table. And it grew on, larger than her, larger than the pavilion, overwhelming her. Her breath caught in her throat.
Flee or fight. Are those my only options? Running away again and leaving everything behind or fighting alone against a flock of wyverns?
Her world shook violently. A brown furry face pushed itself between her and the overwhelming crumb. “GRIII!”
She blinked. The crumb returned to being just that – a tiny crumb on a table. Sven stood in front of her face, looking concerned.
Everything shook again. “Rethia! What’s wrong with you!” She turned her head and Hagfars face swam into view, his large hands grabbing her shoulders and shaking her once more. Gasping, her breathing returned.
“I… I…”
“Thank the springtide! You’re talking again! You turned white as chalk and started shivering and you didn’t respond to anything I said! You have no idea how worried we were.” A pair of delicate hands came into view, shooing Hagfar back to the other side of the table.
“Dear, don’t pressure our guest like that,” chided a soft, warm voice. A tiny hand patted her back. “Breathe, child. There is nothing to fear. You are safe. Shh, everything is fine.” A second tiny hand dabbed at her eyes with a silky smooth cloth, collecting tears. Until that moment, she hadn’t even known that she was crying.
“I didn’t pressure her,” whined Hagfar.
“Hush now,” chastised the soft voice. “Don’t mind this big oaf, child. Good girl.”
Under the soothing hands and the soft voice, she gradually calmed down. Her eyes burned from crying and her voice was raspy when she tried to thank the unknown person.
“Here, drink something.” The unknown pressed a mug into her claws. A delicate woman with light brown hair, green eyes and skin the color of darkened beech wood. She wore a knee-long tunic over tight breeches. “My name is Rianna. Wife to this insensible hulking merchant.”
“I’m … Rethia.”
“I know. Mister Fowlwind told me a short version of this latest trip and I’m very interested in hearing the details at a later time. Even if he is stubborn as a mule, irresponsible and an idiot,” said Rianna with exasperation. But there was a smile in her voice. “I’m glad to have him back home. Thank you.”
Hagfar shrunk away with a sheepish grin. Rethia managed a little smile of her own at their banter.
“Now, just to get it out of here and be able to enjoy what remains of the day: Are you willing to help against the wyverns? You don’t have to fight alone. I’ll make sure that you’ll have proper backup,” added Rianna quickly, noticing the sudden shiver that caught Rethia once more. “Seriously, Hagfar. You made it sound like she has to fight the whole flock on her own. No wonder she panicked!” Her voice dropped to a soft croon. “Dear, sweetheart, listen to me. Everything is fine. You don’t have to do this. You can say no. You can also tell us tomorrow. We have time.”
“But.. then…” hiccuped Rethia, huddling under her wings to hide.
“I understand. You barely arrived and everything happens at once. You couldn’t even enjoy the sights. Did you know that we have one of the largest harbors this side of the continent?” (Rianna)
“No…”
“You have to see it! It’s a true marvel. Sure, we can’t anchor the largest vessels, but the transshipment happening here is immense. Etrimera trades with most every nation that has access to the ocean – and several that lie just inland of those. I’m sure the diversity of our wares can rival the legendary merchant cities. Alas, we’ll never know. They’ve turned to dust centuries ago, victims of war, destruction and greed. How about some cake? Or something a little more salty? If you ever get the chance, you have to visit the Glacial Teeth. I’ve heard that the natives worship some giant, white, bear-like creatures. They can cause avalanches and snowstorms, if angered. They’re also supposed to guard a valley of frozen herbs and icy flowers. I wish I could go and see them for myself.
“The tribes of the desert are experts, if it comes to dried fruits. They keep the best for themselves and only sell inferior stuff to outsiders, but it’s still more delicious than other dried fruits! And…”
Rianna was an unending source of trivial chatter and she soon had Rethia hanging onto every word, scribbling notes into a booklet.
Hagfar fled soon after, happy that both women looked content. A maid informed him that the two Wanderers had excused themselves from dinner and had retired.
Good riddance, that. Stubborn, greedy outsiders who couldn’t get a hint even if they were clobbered with it.
After dinner – a very funny affair with Hagfar, Rianne and their three children – Rethia was led into a spacious room on the second floor. Large doors of glass led onto a balcony, allowing for an overview of the garden and, hidden behind a large wall, a glimpse of the city lights.
Someone had gone to the trouble to set up another perch. Snacks, both sweet and salty, waited on a sidetable. Pitchers of water and juice occupied another one.
With a heavy sigh, she threw whatever pillows she could find onto the large bed. Carefully, she wrapped long leather stripes around her talons and claws, before snuggling into the pile.
I still have to decide. Fight or flee. I don’t want to fight. But I don’t want to just leave, either. I can’t just leave… and I promised myself… next time… to fight… Rianna was so nice…
Sleep claimed her, replacing her wyvern-worries with crashing waves.
She stood on a vast plain in the middle of the night, staring at a distortion. Stone was ripped free from the ground and vanished in its gullet. Clouds were swallowed before they could grow stronger. An unfortunate bat tried to fly around it and was pulled in, gobbled up without a single hair left behind.
She threw the contents of a flask at the distortion, but nothing happened. The contents glowed briefly, then vanished.
“This doesn’t work either!” Frustrated, she scratched something out in a booklet. Her hands were delicate, but large. Unfamiliar hands. Bangles chimmed softly, as she closed the booklet with a snap and let it fall. It was followed by a tiny tug on her belt, as the booklet stabilized on its straps.
“Nothing to it. I have to try it myself!” Her voice was much deeper than she remembered it. She raised both hands towards the distortion, magic pouring out and wrapping around the distortion. She felt the pull on her magic, struggled to keep it contained, fought to push it into shape, until, finally, it formed a perfect sphere around the distortion. Sweat dripped into her eyes. Her heart pounded in triumph at the sight before her: No more stones were ripped from the ground. The clouds were free to scuttle away and a hungry owl flew by without a care in the world.
“It’s possible…” she whispered, even as she fell to her knees, the struggle to keep her spell active drained her strength. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “There is still hope! Praise the Gods! Praise the Sprites!”
“My lord!” someone shouted as she collapsed. Hands carried her away and she floated, her eyes fixed on the distortion. It gorged itself on her spell, breaking free once more to rip apart both earth and sky.
“There is hope…” mumbled Rethia sleepily into the pillows, hugging one close and yawning. Dawn turned her room into a painting of grey. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she stumbled out of her nest and onto the balcony. The fresh breeze woke her up and she began to preen her feathers, waiting for true daylight.
“Strange dreams…” She stopped briefly to look at her claws. No hands, thank the Sprites! Whatever should she do with five fingers, instead of three claws?