At last, Ike shrugged. “I don’t think we can get through that undetected.”
“What’s telling you that?” Wisp drew off her wolfskin.
Before them spread a broad field. The field dipped and sank, rose and fell, but every single inch of it was covered in pure white bleached bones. All of them human. All of them very, very dead. A field of sharp-angled, pure white, as far as they could see.
With one exception. In the center of the field, silver, gold, and gems glittered, bright as the sun that refused to shine. Atop the pile of loot, a red lacquered throne stood at a jaunty angle to the bones. Ike might not have seen it as a throne at first glance, except for the person who sat upon it. The man who was so clearly this land’s king. Or rather, self-declared king.
The Magpie King.
“Welcome,” that king said. He gestured. “Come. I don’t often get guests. I’d like to see your faces before you die.”
Ike and Wisp shared a glance, then shrugged. Ike stepped forward, Wisp at his hip. Shawn shrank down on his back. The bones shifted and crunched under Ike’s feet. He walked carefully, mindful of his footing. At the same time, he attempted to adjust himself to the rollicking, unexpected roll of the bones. The Magpie King wanted a fight. And if he wanted a fight, then Ike intended to give him a good one.
He lifted his eyes, taking in the figure on the throne. He wore an oversized red robe with wide, wide sleeves, so wide they could hardly be called sleeves at all. The red robe hung open at his chest, only held together by a slender red knot. Underneath, he wore prim white robes with black hems. Those were neat and proper, unlike his huge overrobe, with one exception: they totally lacked sleeves. If the overrobe hadn’t been so huge, Ike might not have known, but the garment was so large that it hung over his shoulders, revealing one of them. The effect was perhaps cutesy rather than imposing, like a young boy playing pretend in his father’s clothes.
Not that I’d tell him so. The boy was still far more powerful than him. Not unsurpassably so, but enough Ike didn’t want to mindlessly insult him.
He looked about Ike’s age, youthful and vigorous. Straight black hair was held down with a slender pair of ties, linked at a red tassel that dangled to the side of his right eye. Although Ike had initially thought he sat upon the throne, it was more accurate to say he perched upon it, with his bare toes curled over the front edge of the proud seat. He tilted his head as they approached, much like a bird. Dark eyes glittered at them. He watched them in silence, reading their every move.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Ike frowned. The man emanated aether, and yet… there was something strange about it. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He leaned toward Wisp. “Is he a beast?”
“I’m… not sure.” Wisp stared at him as well, her brows furrowed. She shook his head. “Not quite a beast, but not a human, either.”
“That’s right. I’m a magpie.” Having heard their words, the boy hopped to his feet. He spread his arms, only for them to transform, changing into broad wings that barely fit within the huge red robe. Spreading them for his visitors, the boy turned, showing them the backs of his wings. Black feathers covered most of them, save for the place where the white stripe should have been. There, white scales shimmered instead. He sported both a black bird’s tail and a twisting dragon’s tail, the one overlaid on the other.
“Part beast, part dragon?” Ike guessed.
“Don’t be absurd,” Wisp chided him on instinct, but it was a reflex more than a true comeback. She stared as well, shocked.
“Haha, that’s right. I’m the son of a crow and a dragon. A magpie! The first of my kind. And you’re the first to dare challenge me on my home turf.” He turned back around and preened, clearly proud of his wings. Abruptly, he stopped. His arms returned, the wings vanishing. Standing on the throne, he pointed at them. “So tell me. Why do you dare enter here?”
Ike stepped forward. He took a deep breath, thinking back to when he used to appease his seniors back at the plant. “This is all a big misunderstanding. We’re not here to fight. We’re only trying to pass through.”
“Hmm? Why are you trying to pass through? What do you want on the other side?” the king asked, tilting his head.
“To get stronger. The clans over here are still at war, yes? We’re here to fight,” Wisp declared.
“Then why not start with me? I’ve collected all the pretty things, and now I’ve got nothing to do but sit on my nest. I’m so bored.”
“You’re too strong,” Ike said bluntly.
“That’s right. We didn’t come here to lose,” Wisp replied.
The king put a hand on his chin. Head still tilted, he asked, “But how can you grow stronger if you only fight those weaker than you?”
Ike opened his mouth, then paused. Beside him, Wisp hesitated as well.
“Besides, you smell of gold. Rather than accusing you of coming to fight, shouldn’t I simply say it straight?” The Magpie King whirled, facing them. He hopped atop the back of the chair. It lurched, barely staying upright in the treasure. Coins shot into the air and gems slid down the pile. His feet transformed into bird claws and clutched the chair tightly. Once more, he pointed at them.
“I am the Magpie King. All that shines, all that is beautiful; once it enters this land, it is mine. Hand over your gold, or die!”
Ike and Wisp exchanged a look. When they turned back, they no longer wore neutral, polite expressions. Instead, they scowled, just like backalley roughs.
Ike extended a middle finger. “You think so? Come get it, fucker!”
Wisp twisted her nose and spat. “Haaaa, why don’t you fuck off and die, how about that?”
Laughing in delight, the Magpie King leapt off the chair. His wings spread wide. They beat once, sending his chair toppling backward and tossing his treasure into a flurry.
“So be it!”
The three of them charged at one another, bones and treasure flying all the same.