Within minutes, the chaos had vanished, leaving an empty harbor behind. The wind desolately pushed some trash over the stones.
Men hung in the rigging of the ships, armed with bows or javelins. More hid behind the ships bulwarks, crossbows ready.
And then the three blue wyverns simply turned around and flew back, barely half a mile away from the edge of the harbor.
Rethia quickly bundled her cloak into a pouch and took off after them. “Don’t shoot!” shouted someone behind her.
That’s abnormal behavior for wyverns. Turning around when they’re already this close? Because of the many archers? Can’t believe that. Is it because of their coloring that they’re acting differently? Can’t believe that either. What is wrong with them?
She followed them back to their nest, gliding high above them, where she watched the trio land on some stone spires jutting out of the ocean. Another trio of blue wyverns took flight, heading north along the coast and suddently turning around without any reason.
They flew back to their nest, where two green wyverns took over, flying straight inland towards the northeast, then southwards, crossing over the battlefield from yesterday, and back to their nest in a large triangle. Those two somehow looked familar.
“They’re getting stranger by the minute…” mumbled Rethia, watching how a group of five blue wyverns took off next, flying a reverse triangle out over the ocean. Then a trio of green wyverns took off northeast, came into view of the next city, and flew back the same way they had come. On their return flight, a herd of wild cattle crossed their path.
The trio fell upon them with triumphant cries. Panicked, the herd ran every which way, leaving only a few old behind to be ripped apart by the wyverns. Then they flew off, leaving the carcasses behind.
Rethia landed next to the carcasses for a quick inspection, looking after the trio.
“They didn’t even nibble on them. Just… killed them for killings sake? What is wrong with them?”
Sven chattered at her and she rolled her eyes. “Apart from their coloring, Sven.”
She took off again, straining to catch up to the wyverns and saw how another trio flew southeast, towards Etrimera.
Adjusting her flight, she followed after them. Guards scrambled atop the walls as they came closer. And then the wyverns turned around again, flying back. Rethia followed them.
Back at their nest, most of the wyverns then crawled into the gaping holes in the cliff, while a few remained outside to hunt for fish in the nearby waters.
She circled above the nest for another half hour, waiting, but nothing strange happened. The remaining wyverns crawled into their caves with the fish they had hunted.
“Why did they leave those cattle behind to hunt fish instead? Can’t digest meat? But then why kill them at all? It doesn’t make sense! And those straight flying lines… not what a hunter would do… are they searching for something? Are they intelligent enough to even search for something? Always thought they were as intelligent as other animals. Raptors fly to hunt or defend their territory. They did neither!”
Questions plagued her as she returned to Etrimera.
“And now what? Fly straight into the city? Land outside? Did that guard captain tell her people to not shot at me?”
She flew a bit closer, ready to pull out if even one arrow was pointed at her. The guards on the wall grabbed for their bows as someone shouted something. They didn’t seem to relax at the command, but at least they didn’t grab for their arrows. Yet.
A bit more confident, she glided closer, until she landed on one of the merlons. The guards closest to her were as wide eyed as she felt.
Clatter closed in on her, the guard captain stopping next to her with Ysra in tow.
“You’re back, good. Report,” demanded the captain.
“Your wyverns are so strange,” stated Rethia. “They don’t really look like wyverns and they definitely don’t act like them. But maybe that’s only today and they act normally tomorrow? If so, I wonder why?”
“That’s no report. Tell me what happened. You just flew after those wyverns without a word. I want to know what you saw and if you killed any more wyverns,” demanded the captain once more.
Rethia cocked her head, staring at the large woman and trying to understand what she wanted.
“I killed none of the wyverns. I observed them and they are acting strange. Oh, right,” she remembered the cattle carcasses. “I need to get back to those carcasses before too many predators get to them.”
“Carcasses? What do you mean?”
Rethia didn’t answer, turning halfway around and letting herself fall from the merlon. Wings caught the air and brought her to height, leaving the shocked screams behind her.
She only had to shoo a fox and two wolves away, the predators running some hundred meters away before stopping and watching her with hungry eyes.
A thorough inspection of the carcasses confirmed her first quick glance. The wyverns hadn’t eaten even a tiny part of the cattle. She could only find the marks of large talons – and the much smaller bite-marks from foxes and wolves.
Carving out a large part of the meat for herself, she still left enough for the wolves lying in wait. No need to waste good food.
Returning to the city close to sunset, she dodged around a meeting with the pushy guard captain by landing at the northern edge of the harbor, where Kaska and Stooge idled around. Her landing drew the attention of everyone in the vicinity and people started to close in on her – until the pair of Wanderers snuck up close and started speaking with her. Suddenly, the people turned back to whatever they had been doing.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Huh… more food for thought. As if there wasn’t enough strange things happening…
Opting to wear her cloak, they raided the food stalls along the way to the adventurers guild, with Ysra appearing somewhere along the way like a silent, disapproving shadow.
The guild building was brightly lit as they entered, the adventurers as boisterous as ever. Though she caught some worried whispers about the wyverns making the rounds.
“Maybe they’re checking our defenses before they attack us.”
“… cut off trade and contact with the landlocked kingdoms…”
“Some rogue tamer trying to prove-”
“-utter nonsense. There are no tamers.”
“What do you Wanderers know about tamers? They may be rare, but they’re a terrible foe.”
“Better pray that it’s not a tamer!”
“Now, kids, stop this nonsense.” A loud voice cut through the budding argument. “We have no prove of a tamer being behind these wyverns. All the known tamers are accounted for and they all say that it’s close to impossible to tame adult wyverns. If it’s a tamer, it has to be a new one who has found a clutch of wyvern eggs. And where would you find a clutch of eggs without at least one adult wyvern keeping close watch?”
Some adventurers nodded along with that logic.
“But sir! You have to admit that these wyverns act utterly unnatural. If not a tamer, who else could be responsible?”
“They also have the wrong colors,” added Rethia from her stool, watching her drink with renewed interest as people turned in her direction.
“That girl from the morning…”
“They have?” asked the loud voice, pushing through the tavern part and throwing a shadow over her table. Stooge scooted back from the table, to get a good look at the towering man.
“That report you got me from the guild headquarters? They said that all wyverns are brown. My flock teaches that all wyverns are brown. Yet those in the harbor? They were blue-white. And though I didn’t pay attention yesterday, I bet those were green.”
Scar-man pulled a stool over and sat down, intrigued. He waved towards the receptionist. “Bring that report about the wyverns over?
“They were indeed green. At least those scales the kids handed over. Then you were at the harbor today?”
“Just a little sightseeing around town,” shrugged Rethia.
“Flew after the wyverns when they turned around before reaching the harbor.”
Scar-man briefly glanced at Ysra, registering her presence only now.
“You followed the wyverns? Did you find their nest?” Scar-man leaned forward eagerly.
“Sure did. They flew straight back to it.” Once more she shrugged, as if it was strange that they hadn’t found the exact location yet.
“Where is it? Somewhere along that coastline, right?” His eyes practically glowed and Rethia pulled her head back a little at the displayed eagerness.
The receptionist put the report on the table, then was sent for a map.
Scar-man leafed through the papers. “You’re right. It says here that wyverns are various shades of brown, the color getting bronze-like with age. They get around 8 to 10 years old, the oldest living wyvern had been tamed from the egg and went up to 14 years, its color turning reddish at the end.”
“And they should behave like any other raptors. Flying to hunt or to defend their territory.”
“That’s what it says here,” confirmed Scar-man.
The map was put on the table and they cleared it as best they could to unfurl it. Rethia studied it, matching it to the landscape she had seen.
“Here is the nest.” She tapped on a spot slightly less than halfway to the next city. Then moved to tap several spots. “You said that they attacked at these spots, right?”
Scar-man procured his pouch of yellow pebbles, scattering them on the map to mark the attack spots. Rethia nodded.
“These wyverns? They were acting really strange. There was only ever one team of wyverns flying around. This way, then this, then there and back.” Her claw trailed the flight routes on the map, somehow always crossing over the pebbles. “This spot here? A herd of wild cattle crossed their path and they attacked. They killed some, but didn’t give chase. And they left the corpses without even nibbling at them. And when they all crawled back into their nest? Some stayed outside to hunt fish.”
“That is strange. Even a tamed wyvern would eat their kill.” Scar-man tapped the table in thought.
“That’s almost feral behavior,” remarked an adventurer from the side. Several had come over to cluster around the table, listening in.
“Feral behavior?” asked Rethia.
“Yeah. You know that feral beasts have popped up everywhere, some months back, right?”
Rethia blinked at him, trying to remember. “I think someone spoke about that…”
“They may look similar to normal animals, but they behave completely different, as if they are bound to a pattern. And they breed fast. Even if every last one of them is killed in an area, they are back after some time.”
“Depends on the type of feral beast if they are back after a day or after a week,” added another one.
“Where do they come from?” asked Rethia.
“No one knows. They are just… there.”
“You want to say that this flock of wyverns is feral?” groaned Scar-man.
Part of the adventurers groaned with him, as they came to the same conclusion as Scar-man: even if they killed the whole flock, they would be back.
The other part looked at the prospects with glittering eyes.
“Do they keep to their routes or do they change on a daily basis?” asked someone.
“Don’t know. I’ve only met them yesterday, while you lot live here. Did none of you notice anything?” Rethia looked up from the map, watching as the adventurers averted their eyes, looking everywhere but not at her.
“We’re adventurers,” apologized Scar-man, “not guards. We don’t stand on the wall all day. We prepare for our missions or laze around until a mission catches our interest.”
“I wonder why they changed their patterns?” muttered Ysra.
Scar-man and Rethia turned towards her.
“Not counting today, they came close to the city thrice. On different days and to different times. But the wyverns have been around for roughly two months. If they keep to a pattern, wouldn’t they come close every day? At the same time?”
“Not necessarily. See, a new group of wyverns only started after the last group returned to the nest. If one group got into a prolonged fight, they would return later-”
“And the next group would start later or not start at all!” concluded Scar-man.
Rethia nodded. “And if they always crawl into their nest at the same time, that would mean that a later group wouldn’t fly, if it was past – I don’t know… Past their time? I wonder if they start the next day where they stopped their pattern or at the beginning of their pattern…”
“We don’t have enough information,” sighed Scar-man. “If we had know all this before, we could’ve gathered so much data about them. Tried so many things.”
“Well, I’m here to help you kill them, not observe them. How do we do that? We have at least 6 groups of wyverns, three of them flying over water. These here are trios, and these two consisted of five. Only, that triangle-group is down to two wyverns. If I observed the start of their pattern. Otherwise we’ll be dealing with several more.”
They returned to brooding, glaring at the map as if it would present an answer.
But no answer came to them that night. Adventurers filtered out of the hall as it closed in on midnight, in search of their beds. As it emptied out, Rethia first thought about where she should sleep. Her argument with Hagfar loomed in her mind. Could she return without him getting angry again? Did she even want to return?
I didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted to know where the two Wanderers had went and he got angry all on his own. Humans! Why do they have to be so complicated? I could just sleep on some roof. No one will even notice. And tomorrow, I can look for an inn.
“Looks like your escort is here.” Scar-man waved towards the entrance, where the butler and a pair of maids waited. With a yawn he added: “Better not walk around alone at night. You never know who’s lurking in the dark alleys. Now shoo. We want to close up, too.”
“You close the guild?”
“Sure do. From midnight to sunrise. My employees also need their rest.”
Rethia shrugged. Makes sense. Always thought there was at least someone around, no matter the hour. Then again, I’ve never been to the guild at night.