Dawn stared at an eager harpy circling above the harbor city of Etrimera, who then quickly flew northwards as the first rays of sunlight crawled over the horizon to color the distant waves golden. The sun pushed into a bank of clouds, leaving a grey day behind.
Sven chittered curses at her, as he clung miserably onto her back.
“But I want to know when they start, and if the pattern is the same as yesterdays.”
Sven grumbled even more and Rethia rolled her eyes.
They circled above the wyverns nest for two hours, before the first crawled out to hunt fish. Sven had curled up for a nap and Rethia was humming silly little songs out of boredom.
Another hour and the first group of three flew straight west, returning before long. The next trio flew straight east. And then the pattern from yesterday repeated, this time maybe an hour before midday.
They were probably slowed down because they attacked something.
She circled above the cliffs, ignoring her growling stomach and the grumbling from Sven. When the triangle-duo started, she followed them, first from far above, then two wingspans to their left. They didn’t attack. Even a mocking screech was ignored.
Imagining the formation of the other triangle group, she dropped lower, still to the side of their path.
They didn’t even see her.
With a deep breath, she crossed their path.
““Scree!”” Triumphant cries echoed above her. The urging “giri” on her back was almost drowned out.
Quickly, she left the wyverns path. She felt the turbulence as two large wyverns whistled past her. Circling around, she watched them.
“They can’t be proper wyverns. They just… flew away. As if nothing happened. It’s unnatural.” A cold shiver crawled down her spine.
————
“Outright atrocities!” declared Rethia. “If all feral beasts are like that, then their origins should be found and destroyed.”
The impromptu gathering in the guild was silent at her outburst. The native adventurers slowly nodded, while the few Wanderers among them tried to turn invisible at her burning gaze.
The door groaned as it was shoved open too fast.
“You give these idiots information and not me, the captain of the guard?” snapped the Captain from the entrance. “Move aside, dimwits.”
Those who weren’t fast enough were pushed aside by the Captain as she made her way over to Rethia’s table.
“You call my kids dimwits? They’re faster than your tin cans,” shouted Scar-man good-naturedly.
“You call that fast? They can’t even move aside. You should plant them and hope they grow apples. Then they could be useful for something. Now, what have we here?” Reaching the table, she took a good long look at the map and the many marks. Differently colored pebbles and wooden sticks decorated it.
“Ysra told me that you figured out their patterns. Are those sticks their routes? Good. Why the different thickness?”
“That’s their order. The thickest one first, the thinnest last,” explained Scar-man.
Rethia glowered at the Captain: “We almost had a plan before you barged in.”
“Almost? That’s not enough, girl. Either you have one or you don’t. Now tell me about them wyverns. What did you find out?”
It irked her to answer the clattering, haughty woman, who treated her as a subordinate, but she did recount her experience with the wyverns – after Scar-man nudged her talon under the table twice.
“Then we just need to attack from outside their flight path, right? Shoot at their wings and kill them off after they fall.”
“And how would you do that on the ocean? Keeping your spot on land is easy, but not on the ocean. And once they’re attacked, they hunt their attacker regardless of their flight route. Unless it’s an archer or mage. Then they flee. And what happens to their pattern if one of the groups in the middle is completely killed off? Ever thought about that? Will the pattern change? Will they outright attack the city?”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Then what should we do? Let them waltz around and kill everyone unfortunate enough to cross their path?! It’s better than sitting around and doing nothing!”
“Now, calm down girls. We won’t get anywhere if you two hiss at each other like angry cats.” Scar-man pushed their butting heads apart, glad that a whole table was between the two women. “Let us think this through properly, yes?”
He got growls and the two glared at each other over the table, but neither harpy nor guard captain jumped over the table for a brawl.
“We know that these wyverns fly in patterns and that they attack and kill every living thing that they see on their direct flight routes. We know that they flee from archers and mages. And that there is only ever one group of wyverns flying around. I think we can say for certain that they are feral beasts. Hooray for us,” added Scar-man drily. “Now we just have to find out how we can leverage all that against them. I would prefer a plan that doesn’t involve a harpy, even if that is much easier.”
The Captain whipped her head around.
“She won’t be here when they return and who knows when another harpy comes our way,” explained Scar-man in answer to the unspoken question.
“Makes sense…” growled the Captain unhappily.
They all stared at the map, as if it would reveal a feasible plan if glared at long enoug.
“What about a pincer attack?” asked one of the adventurers into the silence.
A pincer attack…
“A pincer…” echoed Scar-man Rethia’s thought. “Of course! We put some heavy hitters into their flight path, and when the wyverns attack-”
“-the mages on the sidelines can hit their wings!” added the Captain.
“They’ll be grounded so fast they can’t run away from the mages. They’ll be sitting ducks,” marveled Rethia. “But it won’t work on the ocean.”
“At least the northern land routes will be save again. Now that we know their pattern, the ships can change their routes. Or hire an escort,” said Scar-man.
“We could always raid their nest at night,” whispered one of the adventurers.
“Just have to find a way down those cliffs,” chuckled their friend.
—————
“Remember, let one of them escape. We don’t know if the pattern changes if the whole group dies, and the others are waiting for the rest of the beasties.”
Affirmative mumbles rose from the mage and archers hidden in the shrubs. Their eyes jumped between the group of heavily armored adventurers on the plains and the three approaching wyverns. A tiny dot above the wyverns marked Rethia, ready to attack and lead them away if the plan failed.
Rethia watched as the wyverns fell upon the armored adventurers with happy roars. Just before they reached they reached their prey, a streak of fire cut through one wyverns wing. A volley of arrows flew, but ripped into the other wing of the same wyvern, as it tried to flap away, shielding the others.
Roaring, it landed heavily on the ground, snapping at the adventurers and flailing around, while the other two wyverns quickly gained height and fled straight back to their nest.
Rethia hurried after them, catching a faint victorious roar and the death throes of the wyvern behind her.
Nothing much changed. The pattern remained the same even after the third group of adventurers accidentally killed both of the wyvern duo. As she returned to the nest, she saw that the next group of wyverns had already started their flight to the city walls. They didn’t survive.
This close to the city, many of the off-duty guards had joined the archers and shot the wyverns down with savage grins.
————
“Thanks for the help, kid.” Scar-man emptied his tankard and called for a new round. Adventurers and off-duty guards mingled in the tavern-part of the guild building.
It was even more boisterous than the nights before. Months of fear and frustration had ended within a single week, the wyverns killed off as if they were a mere infestation of rats and not a flock of feral, B-ranked monsters.
“Except for that attack on the caravan, I didn’t do much,” shrugged Rethia.
“Don’ sell yerself short, girlie,” slurred the Captain, slumped onto the table after her fifth tankard. “Yer not so bad fer an undishiplind wayfarer.”
“You’re not so bad either, for a bossy stick-up-your-ass,” mumbled Rethia into her mug of juice.
Scar-man roared at her comment. Thankfully, the Captain was too drunk to parse the words and simply laughed along.
“She’s right, you know? If you hadn’t noticed their pattern and strange behavior, we couldn’t have killed them so quickly,” added Scar-man. Even though well into his eight tankard of ale, he still looked sober, but when he stood up, he swayed. With a thick finger, he pointed at her.
“You’ve earned your pay, same as all the others.” He staggered over to another table, congratulating one of the suicide-squads of Wanderers. Those who had pulled the attention of the wyverns and had done so gladly.
I didn’t do that much. Just a bit of flying around and watching wyverns. I didn’t even have to fight them! Yet the townsfolk celebrated me and not the Wanderers who had the most dangerous work. I shudder at the thought of a wyvern hurtling down at me, while just standing there and trusting someone to shoot it down before it reaches me.
And those that climbed down the cliffs in the dark of night… Another shiver ran down her spine at the thought. She had just found a good way down and pointed it out to the adventurers. But the Wanderers had ultimately climbed down that cliff to slaughter the rest of the feral wyverns. Not even the native adventurers, but the Wanderers! And still the townsfolk gave them distrusting glances.
She left the building in search of a good nights rest, a butler ghosting into view and leading her way.
With the completion report from the guild in her pouch, she could go and collect her other rewards in the morning. Maybe Rianna still knew what that was. And then she could leave these tedious thoughts behind, finish her mission and return to her flock.
A tiny voice in the depths of her mind was drowned out. A spring worked itself into her stalking steps at the prospect of returning home. It hadn’t been long, but so many things had already happened, and her trip to the mermaids was still not finished.
I wonder what the mermaids look like? The same as the reliefs in the shaman’s cave? Entirely different? Where do they live? The ocean looks so big from here. Where does it end? Where does it even begin? Why did they trade with the humans? And why haven’t they traded with them for decades?