It was amazing how much hot air 7 people could produce. The man with the scar, the leader of the local adventurers guild, was ready to promise money and middle-grade access to the adventurers information network. She hadn’t even known that they had one.

The three loremasters were all too happy to share their knowledge, hoping – as Rianna later explained – to garner some knowledge from Rethia in return.

The three merchants, already miffed by her unexpected entrance, tried to belittle her abilities. And while she acknowledged that her strength lay not in fighting, she watched with great joy as Rianna diplomatically stripped them down about their abilities to handle a flock of wyvern. Or at least find out more about them.

Chagrined, they promised access to the merchants information system and a free membership for three years. Meaning, the guild would pay her taxes if she sold anything, anywhere.

With most sides satisfied – and Rethia wishing she could curl up on the table and sleep like Sven – they finally came to the grueling details.

Hagfar put a large map of the area on the table and Rethia perked up.

“They roost around here.” Scar-man circled a long cliffside with a finger, then tapped at several spots. “We’ve heard of attacks around here, here and here.”

“There were also attacks here and here,” said the female loremaster, putting yellow pebbles on the mentioned areas. “They’ve come close to the city thrice, without attacking anyone. The last time they came in from the ocean.”

“They took good cattle and merchandise. Sunk a ship, too,” whined one merchant.

Scar-man shook his head at the man. “They attack fast and flee if they so much as smell an archer or mage. It’s beyond me how they know that. And with only melee fighters, they fly circles around them.”

“So it’s a matter of either grounding them, or distracting them that one of your mages can ground them?” asked Rethia, staring at Scar-man.

“Yes. Once on the ground, my kids will be eager to beat the shit out of these pests.”

“I think I can do that…” her thoughts drifted back to her first trio of wyverns. It had been pure accident that she had tried to find shelter in the woods below, and it had saved her life. Now she just had to do it deliberately.

“You think you can do it?! What do you mean!” cried one merchant.

Rethia swiped her head around and glared at him with raptor eyes until he shivered in his fancy slipers.

Swiveling her head back to Scar-man, she added: “We’ll have to find spots for your men to hide, so the wyverns can’t see them. Copses would be good. A forest. Or clusters of bushes, if there is nothing else.”

The map painted a dreary picture: A wide circle around the wyverns roosting area was dotted with yellow pebbles.

“I don’t care who is talking with who, I have to talk with him now!” roared a voice from the building.

“That’s the guard captain,” muttered Scar-man, rising from his chair and walking halfway around the table before a woman in chain maille entered the garden, pushing a maid to the side.

“A swarm of five wyverns is attacking an inbound caravan, I need reinforcments from the adventurers to drive them off.”

“You can’t just burst into a meeting like that, captain,” started one of the querulent merchants.

“And let good people die?” hissed the captain. “There will be enough dead as is, because we’re moving too damn slow!”

“Which direction, miss?” Rethia poked at the sleeping Sven with a claw.

“North-northeast, same as always. Who are you that you don’t… know… that…” the guard captain stared at her with an open mouth.

“Permission to fly over the city, miss?”

“Huh?”

“Do I have permission to fly over the city without your archers turning me into an oversized pincushion?” asked Rethia again.

“Ye… yes! I’ll make sure everyone knows we have a harpy!” a savage grin slowly formed on the captains face.

“I’ll get some guys ready to follow in a jiffy. Do leave something for them to do, yes?” Scar-man raced out of the garden, with the guard captain hot on his heels.

Grabbing one half-asleep Sven in a talon, Rethia took to the sky, quickly gaining height to get out of range of any archers, before flying in a northeastern direction. The wyverns were hard to miss.

“Chi-!”

“Awake at last? Get on, I need both my talons for this. Pray that we don’t get killed…”

She felt Sven wiggle out of her grasp and clamber onto her back.

—————

“I really want to know what’s going on in there,” muttered Kaska. She and Stooge leaned on a wall opposite of Hagfar Emrasens house. Kicked out right after breakfast by a polite butler, they had originally waited for Rethia to leave.

Instead, they had watched the three highest-ranked loremasters, the big merchant leaders and the adventurers local guild master enter the building.

“She must’ve accepted the request.”

“Of course she accepted the request. It’s a scripted event. As if she could’ve deviated from it.” Kaska rolled her eyes.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“You sure? Looked to me that she had both options and Hagfar was willing to get her out.”

“I’m more interested in getting in on the event. Not just as someone but as companion of the harpy. Just think about the rewards!”

The clatter of armor pulled their attention down the street, watching a woman in chain maille and an adventurer run up to Hagfar’s house.

“That’s the vice-master and the guard captain,” mumbled Stooge.

Shouting could be heard from inside the building and a short-while later, the guard captain and the guild master raced out and into the city.

“There!” Stooge hit Kaska, pointing at the sky, where Rethia quickly turned smaller and then vanished to the north. Or was it east?

“Shit! She’s gone!”

“Let’s get to the guild, or we loose our chance,” declared Stooge and pulled the cursing Kaska after him as fast as he could. They cut through back-alleys, making it just in time to squeeze into the selection of the second rescue group.

—————

She saw a group of city soldiers take up position around the caravan, using their spears in an attempt to keep the wyverns off. Then she reached them herself, circling far above even the wyverns.

“Now what?”

“Gi?”

“I… just have to ground them, right? … Damn, I just flew off without thinking about how I would ground them! They are huge!”

Watching the wyverns swoop in on the caravan and circle around it for a bit, there seemed to be a pattern. One wyvern always stayed above the others, as if it was the leader of the raiding party, while the other four swooped in in pairs.

From the city, a group of horsemen galloped towards them.

“Must be the adventurers. Have to do something before they get here…”

“Girii gi?”

“The wings? Why would- wait. You’re right. Thanks, Sven!” She could almost feel the monkey shake its head in exasperation.

Silently, she flew down, gliding in over the lead-wyverns left wing. Her heart pounded in her ears. Folding her wings, she dropped the last meter or so, landing on the leathery membrane in a crouch. Her talons barely nicked it.

While Rethia wondered how to rip the membrane apart, the wyvern noticed the unfamiliar weight on its wing. With an angry roar, it flapped its wings and rolled around once.

“Whoaa!” fighting for balance, Rethia clapped her claws into the membrane with more force than intended, digging in and drawing blood, while her talons lost their grip. The pain drove the wyvern to wild flapping, trying to dislodge Rethia. It only helped widen the wound, as Rethia was pushed across the wing by the force of the wind, finally tumbling off as her claws reached the end of the wing - leaving behind a jagged rip.

Screaming and flailing to turn around properly, she dropped past one wyverns snapping maw and bounced off anothers wingtip. Grabbing hold of the air once more, she flew away as fast as she could, listening to the hateful screams of the wyverns behind her.

Svens panicked chitter pushed her to fly faster than ever before, the ground whipping by so fast that everything was smeared into green-brown paste. The wind drove tears into her eyes, blurring the faint-blue updrafts in front of her.

“Gii!” Sven frantically thumped onto her left shoulder and she dropped away to that side without a second thought, escaping a snapping maw by mere feather-lengths.

Cold sweat drenched her back at the sight and she pushed for more speed. Those updrafts…

Something pushed her upwards. Disoriented, she took a moment to realize that she was in an updraft and angle her wings to make use of it. It cost her a tailfeather and a scratch on her right leg.

The updraft spat her out faster than ever before, the four larger, heavier wyverns still only halfway up.

Her heart thundered like a herd of running horses as she went for the next updraft, working to increase her distance. With that bit of leeway, she scanned the ground. Her frantic escape had brought her over three miles away from the attacked caravan. The lead-wyvern had crashed down next to them and didn’t move. Either dead from the fall or killed by the soldiers and adventurers surrounding it.

A group of horsemen pointed at her with spears.

“So good to be watched over…” muttered Rethia under her breath. She barely noticed Sven wrapping a snug bandage around her leg as she sailed in the updraft. Her eyes were drawn back to the screeching wyverns, out of the first updraft and pumping their wings to reach her.

“You good to go? Wish me luck…”

“Gi gii~” comforting paws patted her back with encouragement.

With a deep breath, she rolled out of the updraft and dove at the wyverns, wings tucked close and claws pushed forward. The impact with the wyvern-wing was brief. Then she was out on the other side, hurtling towards the ground with a thin film of blood coating her and a mixture of pained and angry roars in her wake.

She slowed her dive twice, letting the wyverns catch up with her. A glance back showed her the rage in their eyes. If there had ever been reason, it was now gone.

With a dry chuckle, she broke her dive just in time to escape a neck-breaking contact with the ground, flying away. The wyverns descended into chaotic flapping at her sudden change of direction and the ground that now loomed before them.

Something crashed down loudly, the impact pushing at her. Sven chittered excitedly.

With a satisfied hiss of her own, she hurtled back towards the caravan and the waiting warriors, three spitting wyverns hot on her tail.

Briefly, she noticed arrows on half-drawn bows and the glow of magic around wands or hands. Then she was past the group of Landbound, leading her entourage in a wide circle for a second pass.

If Sven hadn’t told her that the Landbound had snagged themselves the last wyvern in her trail, the loud cheers echoing over the plain would have.

The roars behind her changed from angry to something akin to shock, then outrage. Curious, Rethia turned in a tight circle for a quick glance, then stopped to hover in midair.

The last two wyverns flew off in a huff, but their roars promised bloody revenge.

She managed a mocking screech and nearly had them flying back at her, but loosing three of their own was too much for them.

On trembling wings, she glided back to the caravan, landing on Stooges shoulder without any warning – or with Kaska’s warning, if her garbled shout was any indication.

“That… is a terrible place to sit…” he stopped his weapon midswing, carefully moving away from the last struggling wyvern, lest he dislodge his passenger.

“You’re a good perch,” muttered Rethia, tucking her drooping wings close.

Cheers rose from around the last wyvern as someone landed the finishing blow, followed by more cheers as the caravan people crawled out from under their wagons out of sheer curiosity and found their attackers either dead or driven off.

A group of adventurers was sent off to check on the crash-site of the second wyvern. New horses were put in front of the carts – temporary replacements for the killed beasts – and the corpses were being dismantled.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’re hurt somewhere?” repeated Kaska a bit louder.

“Dunno…” she felt like being in a giant cloud of cotton: loose and floaty and everything was kind of muted. Couldn’t they just let her rest?

“For all that’s worth in the land beyond, grant me power to wake even the dead,” growled Kaska.

Warmth washed over her sore muscles, briefly banishing the growing darkness from her mind. A whimper escaped her as the pain from her leg pierced through the rest of the comforting dark.

“Where are you hurt?” asked Kaska a third time.

“My leg, why does it hurt so much? Make it stop!” yowled Rethia, hoping on her left leg on Stooges shoulder, who did his very best to keep his balance.

“Please stop moving around!”

“Come down here and show me.”

“It hurts! It hurts!”

“Make her stop, Kaska!”

It took many soothing words and a healthy amount of chattering from Sven to get Rethia on the ground and unfurl her wings to give Kaska access to the soaked bandage on her right leg.

Compared to that, it took barely two minutes to get the bandage off, the wound washed and a healing spell put in place – with many a muttered curse from Kaska about proper wound care.

“There, good as new,” declared Kaska with a satisfied smile, her hands on her hips. But Rethia had gone straight to sleep once the pain had vanished, leaning against Stooge. Who shrugged helplessly.

“Seriously, if not for the rewards, I wouldn’t put up with this…” Kaska rolled her eyes.

“You still would,” chuckled Stooge. “That’s just the way you are.”

“Everything good over here?” asked a solider with a raised eye at the sleeping harpy. “If so, let’s get back to the city while those wyverns are gone.”

“Uhm… how do you transport a sleeping harpy?” asked Stooge at the back of the soldier.

Sven rolled his eyes at them and woke Rethia up long enough for her to settle on Stooges shoulder, before letting her fall asleep again.

Their return to the city was met with cheers and jubilation from the battlements. As they walked through the gates, half the city crowded in the streets to welcome the mighty warriors back. And to get a glimpse of the legendary harpy.

Rethia slept through the racket, blissfully unaware of the rumors that sprouted at her sight.

At one point, a butler came to lead Stooge and Kaska away.