The large, shallow basin looked like murder had happened recently. Bloody foam floated next to dander on the red water. Soaked red towels had been haphazardly strewn around the basin.
The head maid and Rethia looked at the aftermath of her bath from the entrance of the room.
“I didn’t know how much blood feathers could soak up…” Rethia combed through her left wing feathers with a set of claws, straightening them, while Sven did the same on her back.
One eye of the head maid twitched slightly, but her perpetual smile stayed in place as she led Rethia back to her room and signaled a group of maids to clean the mess up.
Continuing her preening on her balcony, where the sun and wind could dry her out, Rethia thought back on the fight.
I was running away more than fighting. If I had been slower, they would’ve killed me. A shiver ran down her spine as she saw a giant maw snap shut too close for comfort. And whatever had scratched her leg could’ve ripped her apart, if she had been just a fraction slower to recognize that updraft.
Her claws paused briefly, before continuing.
Blood rushed in her ears once more at the memory. Her heart thumped against her ribs in excitement. It had been frightening. And exhilarating.
The wyverns could’ve killed her. But she had been faster by the nick of a feather. Flying like that was awesome. And tiring. Her muscles still protested a little, even after the healing Kaska had given her. And she had fallen asleep as soon as the pain in her leg had vanished.
A rueful smirk crawled onto her face. She wasn’t trained for prolonged aerial battle. Of course her muscles protested! Once she was back home, she would ask the Warriors to train her a bit.
With the last feather meticulously preened, the butler appeared to escort her to the dinner room.
Hagfar’s children took turns, regaling her with different versions of the skirmish. Each was more outrageous than the last and blown so far out of proportion that she wondered if the people had taken drugs.
One story had her rip all five wyverns apart in midair. She shook her head at that.
“Do people really believe that?”
“You would be surprised,” nodded Hagfar. “The more outrageous a story, the more believable it is.”
“But I can’t rip a wyvern apart, much less five! I just managed to tear their wings a little!”
“And what about the one you led into the ground as it tried to catch you?” asked Hagfar with an innocent expression.
“That was a blind idiot… Wait, how do you know that?!”
“We had Dian watch from the battlements with a spyglass,” answered Rianna.
“Uncle Dian is really good at telling stories,” chorused the children from the side.
“I had hoped that they would be stupid, but loosing sight of the ground while hunting is beyond stupid.” Rethia shook her head and an idea struck her. “Say, do you have any books on wyverns? Living areas, behavior, their usual diet?”
“No, but the adventurers guild should have something like that. I can ask for you,” offered Hagfar.
“Thank you, but I’ll ask them myself. – Tomorrow,” she added with a glance out the windows. The sun had set and the outside grew impossibly dark to her. Looking around, she noticed for the first time that two faces were missing. “Where are Kaska and Stooge? I wanted to thank them.”
“We thanked them for healing you and bringing you back. They should be at the adventurers guild.”
“Why?” She stared at Hagfar.
“Wanderers can’t be trusted, even if they are helpful. Especially when they are helpful.” A bitter expression crossed his face before it was wiped away. “If you’ll excuse me? I have work to catch up on.”
The rest of the dinner was spent in uncomfortable silence.
—————
Rethia left Hagfar’s home early the next day. She would’ve loved to just snuck out, but the butler and head maid both saw her, handing her a box with food and giving her directions to the adventurers guild.
A wayward minstrel strummed his lute at the next corner, trying to put the skirmish with the wyverns into an epic ballad. Rethia hurried past him, glad that she wore her cloak out of pure habit.
The guild hall was easy to find, looking identical to its sister-buildings in other towns. And she had been there once before.
“Good morning. Do you have information about wyverns?” she asked at the reception.
“What rank are you, miss?”
“Ah… uhm… rank? Is that important?”
The receptionist sighed. “Depending on your guild rank, you can get access to different information. If you don’t even know your rank, you must be a fresh F-rank. Maybe an E-rank, since I’ve never seen you around here. Wyverns are ranked at B or A. All a newbie needs to know about them is that they are dangerous and deadly for you.”
“But I was requested to help with their hunt!” her protest was met with laughter.
“A newbie? Hunt wyverns? Tell me another.”
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Rethia blushed and hopped from one talon to the other, feeling eyes boring into her back.
A resounding whack drew her sight from the counter back to the receptionist. The glowering Scar-man stood behind him.
“Ouch! Guildmaster! I didn’t deserve that!”
“You did. Next time, ask for their identification before making assumptions. And you.” A thick finger pointed at her and she shrunk back. “Without that cloak, such mix-ups wouldn’t happen.”
“It’s a habit. Many Landbound think I’m indecent if I don’t wear it.”
Scar-face shook his head. “And you need to think about what you say. Half of them don’t know you’re a harpy and now fantasize that you’re naked under that cloak.”
Rethia winced, but refused to turn around or remove her cloak.
“What brought you here this early in the morning?”
“I want information about wyverns. What they eat, where they usually make their nests, their habits, whatever you have. Something was strange, yesterday. No raptor would ever loose sight of the ground during a hunt. Breaking a dive too late is deadly. But those wyverns? They forgot all about it. Or they didn’t care.”
Scar-man nodded, then glared at the receptionist.
“Get all the available information on wyverns from headquarters as fast as you can.”
“Sir!” the poor man snapped to attention and hurried through a door in the back.
“Now, give me your tag.”
With one hand, Scar-man rummaged under the counter, while he took her guild tag with the other. Producing the familiar crystal and a sheet of paper, he put everything in a stack. The crystal blinked twice.
Dragging her tag out of the stack, Scar-man glared at it as if the wooden piece had personally offended him. Heartbeats later, he had something scribbled onto a new piece of paper and shoved it into the stack as well.
The crystal shone as it should and Scar-man grinned, shoving her tag back at her.
“There. You’re now officially registered for the wyvern hunt.”
Next to her E rank was now an -S.
“What does that mean?” she pointed at it.
“Oh, nothing important, I assure you. Just that you’re now an adventurer with special abilities. Seriously, I wonder why didn’t do that when you registered.”
“And you can just… do that?” she tried to remember the guild rankings, but the explanation had been so long ago.
“I’m a guild master. Of course I can do that. Besides, show me an E-rank who can outrun four wyverns while killing one. Don’t worry your pretty head. Besides, you still have your E-rank, right?”
The receptionist returned with a meager stack of papers.
“This is all they have at the moment, sir, but they’re still searching through their library for more information. It could take a while.”
Scar-man riffled through the stack of five papers, then threw them on the counter. “That’s straight from Aphilias Bestiary. Every guild branch has that in their library! Don’t they have anything else?”
Rethia skimmed through the scattered papers and found little that was helpful. How large they could grow, usual size of their flocks, food consumption, coloring.
“If only I could ask Isatha. She would know something. Or know exactly where it is in the archives…” A forlorn sigh escaped her, as she absentmindedly tapped a claw on the counter.
But Isatha is one week east from here and I don’t have the time to travel there and back just to get some information…
“If your friend is an adventurer, the guild could deliver a message for you. We can send it to any branch near instantly.”
“She’s not always around the guild. Could be her next visit is in a month… Wait, you can send messages?”
“Sure can. You, make sure that letter is sent as quickly as possible and keep an eye on any replies.” With that, Scar-man left her in the tender care of the receptionist.
She got specially treated paper and ink to write her message with, addressed to Isatha at the Nitia guild branch. It was a short thing, roughly describing the situation and asking for whatever information slumbered in the Travelers archive.
An inconspicuous woman wearing hunting leathers fell in step behind her as she left the adventurers guild and followed her down the market street to the harbor without uttering a single word.
Rethia tried to ignore the woman, but curiosity drew her gaze whenever she stopped at a food stall for a snack.
Alert blue eyes under straight, wheat-colored hair roamed the street, taking note of everything. Otherwise, the woman was kind of normal for a human. Average height, average looks.
Before long, they stood on the quay, watching as a ship came in with the tide and an army of workers moved the cargo into a warehouse.
“And you are?” asked Rethia finally, startling the woman.
“Ysra Throdir, miss.” Her voice sounded like crunching gravel.
“Aaand why are you following me?”
“Captains order, miss.”
Rethia stared at her for a moment, then let her eyes wander, mulling over her next question. Flicking her head around abruptly, startling Ysra once more, she asked: “Which captain?”
“Captain of the city guard, miss.”
“Not very forthcoming with information, are you?”
Ysra remained silent.
“What are your orders?”
She remained stoically silent.
“Fine. If you don’t want to tell me, then you can be my tour guide. Show me the sights. Hagfar talked so much about your beautiful city and I haven’t seen much of it. The market is certainly large, but nothing to write home about.”
Rethia waited, then sighed at the continued silence and wandered off along the harbor. Bad company could really ruin the view.
It was the largest harbor she had ever seen. And the first one she had ever seen. Countless ships laid at anchor, making for a veritable forest of masts. Gulls were everywhere, flying, screaming and fighting for scraps of fish.
Rough men and women repaired nets on the far side of the bay while keeping a watchful eye on the gulls. Who in return stared greedily at the barrels full of salted fish. Further south, beyond the fishermen, stood a needle-like tower, its topmost room open to all sides and with a giant contraption built into it.
A giant bell struck noon. Children ran around them as they made their way back north along the harbor and tantalizing scents wafted on the ocean breeze.
As did a trio of large blue birds far out above the northwestern sea.
A stall with green stripes wrapped around white kernels drew her attention. The same green stripes were cooked in a broth two stalls over.
“What is that?” asked Rethia, pointing a claw at the green stuff.
“That’s seaweed rolls. Filled with rice, fish or vegetables.” The man at the stall pointed at the different rolled pieces in succession, did a double take and stared at her claw.
“Can I have two of each, please?”
“Yuh… yes, of course!” The man took the coins from Sven with wonder and handed the monkey the small plate with the six pieces.
Sven inspected them from all sides, sniffed them, then gobbled down his rice and vegetable filled rolls. He licked the one with fish, turned his adorable head sideways in thought and put the roll back on the plate.
The man and Rethia both laughed at the display.
“Quite the gourmet, your little friend.”
“Sorry, he’s not one for fish, but he’ll try everything.” Rethia picked the fish roll first and almost melted on the spot. The salty taste scratched something in the depths of her mind. “This is delicious! Can I-”
“Wyverns!” someone screamed, drowning her out. Others echoed the scream. “Wyverns!”, “At the headland!”
Rethia glanced at the headland, like so many others. The trio of blue-white birds was a little closer and they were certainly larger than normal birds, but outright calling them wyverns? Everyone knew that wyverns were brown.
It’s probably some large variant of gulls, similar to the Giant Eagles back home.
“Can I get some packed? Around 10 of each?” repeated Rethia her question.
“L… ll…. later…” stammered the man, gasping at the blue-white birds and hurrying to his foods packed away.
Rethia shrugged and tried to walk away through the thickening crowd. Maybe later.
“Damn, why is everyone so panicked because of some birds?” squeezing out of the crowd was impossible without getting her talons stomped on and her wings squished. Instead, she sought shelter behind the man’s food stall until everyone calmed down again.
“Because those birds are actually wyverns,” provided Ysra helpfully.
“Wyverns? Everyone knows that wyverns are brown, not blue-white. They can’t be wyverns.” But maybe a second look would be good?
She didn’t believe her eyes even after a third look. They looked like large, reptilian, featherless birds with leathery wings. If they had been brown… But they weren’t. And they were much closer than it had looked at first.
“Since when are wyverns not brown?!”