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Blackwings Vs. Lightsworns - (Serious Business, Ch. 9 - Birds Came Flying (At The Speed of Sound))


Lord Smeagle

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Oh, sorry. You were probably looking for another fanfic about duelists. In that case, you should probably hit the Back button.

 

On the other hand, if you're looking for a fanfic about Duel Monsters, you've come to the right place.

 

The list of things you will not find here includes Duel Disks, Life Points, Rare Hunters, brightly colored dorm rooms named after Egyptian Gods, card games played on motorcycles and punk kid millionaires who screw the rules because they have money.

 

The list of things you will find here include: a coherent, illustrated world and the characters that live in it, free of their cardboard casings and Konami's BKSS rulings.

 

Interested?

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter Zero (Prologue)]

 

Under a rising air current, Shura glided effortlessly over the clouds. The wind was warm beneath her wings. She barely felt tired at all, despite her long flight. At any rate, she had a job to do - though she would've liked to glide over the clouds for much longer, she had a job to do. She dipped beneath the clouds as Kristya's Citadel came into view.

 

The Citadel was impressive to say the least. Pale ivory towers rose almost as high as the clouds themselves, flanking the city on six sides. They were beautiful to look upon, but Shura knew better. Shura knew that terrible things lurked inside those towers. Many of them were sharp, pointy, extremely accurate, and aimed at stray birds like herself. She took a lot of flak for running reconnaissance missions by the hunters that said it wasn't real work. It was plenty dangerous, as a matter of fact, and it was real damned important.

 

A flash of black feathers and flapping cloth startled her; she nearly plowed into the other bird. The offender dropped back alongside her. Shura eyed him with suspicion. "Fane? What are you doing here? This is my mission." Fane responded, trying to sound apologetic - but you could hear the glee in his voice. "Afraid not, chick. New orders from Elphin. This is a search-and-destroy run now." Shura was indignant. "Nothing personal," said Fane, half-heartedly reassuring her. "But plans have changed."

 

Fane dropped back and fell into a steep nosedive, swooping over the city below. Screams went up as a legion of white-armored soldiers decried the evil of Fane's firebombs and flying kunai. Shura banked and rolled left as arrows whizzed past her head. In any case, there wouldn't be any reconnaissance to be had once the city was locked down tight. She swooped low and to the right, keeping near the ground until she was out of range of the Citadel. It wasn't her business anymore.

 

 

---------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Fane screeched with malicious glee as a firebomb exploded behind him, sending white-armored soldiers reeling, as he made a round around one of the great ivory towers. The whole city was bound to be up in arms by now - precisely what he needed. He nimbly dodged arrows and the fireballs of enemy mages as he swung around and dove into the streets. He barreled through the narrow avenues; pedestrians dove to the sides and into buildings to get out of his way. He twisted and turned down several streets before ducking into an alleyway and touching down.

 

Fane reached into his back pocket and unrolled a scroll, revealing a roughly-sketched map of the city. Red Xs were marked all over the map - these targets, he had hit precisely. He had dealt enough damage in the marked areas - all that was left was to set off the big one in front of Kristya's Citadel. But he wasn't sure where he was now; he would have to get a better view of the city. Perhaps better to lie low for just a bit longer to let the heat pass him by.

 

Fane was suddenly aware of a sniffing sound. He turned around to see the shadow of a dog approaching down the alleyway. A dog was nothing to be worried about; but this particular one seemed to be no mere stray. Was that...armor? He could barely make it out before the large white dog leapt upon his, sinking his teeth into Fane's arm and dragging him screaming out into the open

 

He finally tore the canine's teeth from his arm and tossed him aside, but it was too late; he was already surrounded, and his arm had been savaged too badly to make a quick escape. He seized a kunai from his pouch and hurled it at the nearest guard; it stuck between the plates of his armor and knocked him over. He whirled around, scratching a pikeman's eyes out with a lash of his talons, and narrowly dodging under another's sword. He straightened and started to sprint ahead, but he found himself stopped dead by the flat of a halberd.

 

He looked up in a daze, and beheld a huge, proud man with wild blue hair and cruel eyes holding the spear above him. "Remember the name, fool." In his dazed stupor, Fane could offer no response. "I'm Garoth, and these are my streets." It was the last thing that went through his mind saw before another sweep of the halberd knocked him cold.

 

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter 1: The Birds Is Coming]

 

 

 

It was evening before Shura came back to roost. Her anger at Fane’s interloping had long cooled to mere exhaustion, weighing on her wings heavily. She watched the sun set through the Tree of Flashing Talons, casting shafts of fading red-gold light over the smaller trees around it. The great fortress-tree was a welcome sight, to be sure.

 

As she neared the Tree, relief turned to apprehension. Upon closer inspection, the Talons were on full alert. The guards were making their rounds around the top of the tree, in two even circles. Shura knew this meant one of two things; either that they were under attack, or that matters of war were being discussed. Since there appeared to be no immediate threat, it surely meant that Elphin had called the council together to discuss invasion plans. Fane’s orders all made sense now; he was throwing Kristya’s fortress into disarray, in preparation for the coming storm.

 

This was troubling. The Raven tribe were the fiercest force in the skies, to be sure. But outright war with the Realm of Light was madness. Though slow and ungraceful, the Lightsworn Armies hewed their fortresses from stone and they marched like an iron wall. They were far more organized, and when they recovered from Fane’s firebombing, they would be furious. What was Elphin thinking? Surely he hadn’t gone senile in his old age…he seemed sharp as ever just a few short days ago. Perhaps he’d been listening to Sirocco too much.

 

Shura descended into the trees and touched down onto solid ground. Right. She looked up into the boughs of the Tree. She reported directly to Elphin so she had a right to appear before them. What was she supposed to say to the Council, then? Sorry, Chief, I couldn’t see anything through the giant fireball that used to be Fane’s ass. She would have laughed, if the situation hadn’t been so dire.

 

“HEY! Shura, you’re back!” Shura looked up and spotted a large, red-plumed bird perched in the tree behind her, wearing a ridiculous grin. It was Ghibli, big stupid feathers and all. “It’s been awful dull around here while you were gone, real solemn-like. It’s the Talon Guards, I think, makes people nervous. D’jya see anything interesting?” That was Ghibli, all right. “I dunno,” responded Shura slyly, “did you find me any a dhalsaberry?” Ghibli’s eyes narrowed. “Alright, fine.” He produced a plump, blue-green berry and tossed it to Shura, who caught it and ate it. “Now chirp, why don’cha.” Shura began.

 

 

~~

 

 

“It’s clear to me, Chief, that the best course of action is to attack in several waves.” Zephyros made several cutting motions with his hand at an invisible Citadel that he seemed to hold up before the Council. If the Talon Guard were to strike first, we could break up the ranks and follow up with Elphais’ division. Then, we can send in our main forces from three sides, and have our hunters pick off the stragglers. When their ranks are sufficiently broken, we can descend and take the Citadel!” He dispensed with hand motions and stood rigidly at attention, awaiting Elphin’s judgement.

 

A deep voice interrupted. Elphin’s finest general, Mistral, armored in his great helm, held everyone’s attention. His audacity was only permitted due to his great service on the battlefield. “Your plan is sound, but it spreads our forces too thin,” said the old bird. If they are permitted to flank us they will divide and conquer.”

 

Zephyros could barely see the general’s eyes from inside his helm, but he looked where he supposed they were. “Humans cannot possibly challenge us in the air. Flanking is not an option while we keep out of range; we will dive and strike when needed. We may engage on our own terms.”

 

“Are you forgetting,” started the general, “that it is not mere humans that we face. The histories tell us Kristya has been known to call assistance from the higher planes. If they are to dispatch the angels? Elphin gravely inclined his head towards Mistral; Mistral remained stone-faced. Zephyros looked incredulous. The old fool! He would dismiss a flawless battle strategy based on an old legend!? “I have yet to see such a creature. If they even exist I am sure they are in short supply.” He turned back to Elphin and proceeded to salvage the situation. “Chief, I assure you, this plan is sound. It is the most efficient means of dispatching the enemy. We cannot fail!”

 

Elphin looked up from his perch. The Council was held in rapt attention. “Captain Zephyros’s plan is as sound as any,” he began slowly. “In lieu of a better suggestion, I decree that the troops be mustered and organized for staggered-wave tactics.” Every head in the room but one nodded in agreement.

 

“If I may interrupt,” said a high, crooning voice, “I think that I have a better suggestion.” All eyes turned to the speaker. He was thin and ragged, his dull brown feathers hanging loosely about him, but his bright yellow eyes and his voice gave off the life that the rest of him lacked. Chief Elphin nodded. “Proceed.” Sirocco proceeded to stand, filling his voice with all the fervor that his position as High Shaman could provide.

 

“The Lightsworn menace is the greatest threat that we have ever faced. The antithesis, if you will, of all that we stand for.” Zephyros mentally groaned, but Sirocco continued. “They are strong, they are ruthless and they are inexorable. Should the Raven clan fall, all tribes of the Black Feather may share that fate. The other clans know this. We should call on the other clans for assistance.” Mistral and Elphin both nodded in agreement. “Wonderful,” said Zephyros, “let’s do that. In the meantime…” Sirocco continued, pretending not to have heard, his voice rising over Zephyros’s like a storm.

 

“The enemy is armored, and a blunt force will simply glance off, to little effect. We must not strike like as a club, but rather like a spear, through the plates of their armor! We will leave them bleeding, with a wound that will not heal…” Elphin signaled for Sirocco to stop; he frankly appeared slightly uncomfortable. “…Yes?” Elphin spoke again. “Nice speech. What exactly are you proposing?” Sirocco grinned wickedly. “A spear formation. Unify to fly behind our swiftest soldier, and the wind will break so that all our soldiers fly as swiftly!” His voice became more restrained. “Bora of the Silverwind Tribe is renowned for his speed and ferocity in battle. He should lead the charge.”

 

Zephyros’s face fell as Elphin nodded. “Agreed,” said the Chief in a quiet voice that seemed louder by virtue of the speaker. “Let the call go out. Notify all the other clans, from the Red River to the Far North. This is war.” The meeting was adjourned.

 

 

~~

 

 

Fane sat cross-legged in silence, shafts of brilliant light breaking from between the bars, casting him in waves of light and shadow. He wore only a loincloth, though his nakedness was the least of his concerns. The sharp pain in his head was nearly gone, but it flared up at a loud female voice. “Hey, you.” Fane opened his eyes and beheld a human approaching his cell. She was dark-skinned, clothed in red, white and gold, and her hair fell in twin tails down her back. She carried a bundle of cloth under one arm; as she neared, he recognized it as his coat.

 

“Here, bird,” said the woman, as she turned a crank on the wall and raised the prison gates. “Is yours?” She tossed the coat at Fane; he caught it and dropped it to the ground. The woman stood over him, cast halfway in the light. “We searched it thoroughly. None of your firebombs or hidden blades in here, so don’t get too excited.” She continued to stand watch with the gate raised, expecting an answer that Fane did not intend to give.

 

Fane finally raised an eyebrow, looking up at the monk. “You are aware of what you are doing, right?” he asked, slightly amused. He was a highly trained assassin, and the woman surely knew it. “I could break your neck in seconds.” Granted, this would be entirely useless, for even if he killed the woman he would never make it past the rest of the guards alive. She likely sensed this. “You’re welcome to try it,” she said without emotion.

 

Fane sprung from the ground, and struck at the woman’s head, but she blocked it with a quick swipe of her arm. She pushed his arm back and struck at his stomach; he spun out of the way and lashed out with one of his talons. She leaped back, dropped into a low stance. Fane flapped in the air twice, and lunged forward into a spinning strike with both talons, but the woman had already dodged and his feet struck only ground. He whirled around to see the woman had switched sides and was charging at him again. Fane lunged forward to deliver a flying elbow; the woman caught him around the arm and hurled him back into the cell, where he hit the wall with a thud.

 

The gate slammed shut. The woman outside smiled. “Your technique is sloppy. Garoth must have hit you harder than I thought.” She strode off into the darkness. Utterly defeated (and by a human female!) Fane put on his coat and sat down again, resigned to continue his meditations.

 

 

~~

 

 

“So Fane did not return.” Elphin nodded. “He has surely been captured.” Shura nodded; this was the only logical conclusion. He was not one to report back late late. “What should we do, Chief?” asked Shura. “There is little we can do,” replied Elphin. He understood well the risks. I suspect he will be summarily executed. If not, he will be freed when we take the city, then…dealt with. Thank you for your report.” He made a wide sweep of his arm.

 

“Your next assignment – and I assure you it will not be interfered with – is to notify Silverwind’s clan. You are familiar with Silverwind territory?” Shura nodded. “Good. Take caution. Silverwind is known to be paranoid. Don’t do anything to upset him. If you need to hunt, hunt outside his lands. We cannot afford to lose an ally now.” Shura saluted. “Good. Dismissed.” Shura took flight, leaving Elphin alone in the Tree of Flashing Talons.

 

Elphin closed his eyes and caught up on some much needed rest. Meanwhile, the Talon Guard drilled, Ghibli prattled and Sirocco sought the advice of the wind.

 

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter 2: Birds In The Hand]

 

 

Shura drifted lazily through the clouds towards the Red River. The air was warm and the current was rising, so it required little effort to glide upon it. However, her stomach was growling; while Ghibli’s dhalsaberries were supremely delicious, they were not very filling. Remembering Elphin’s advice, she decided it was high time to hunt; she would be on Silverwind’s land soon enough.

 

She came in low over a wide meadow, where she found sheep grazing. The sheep were small and multicolored, and they were nearly as fluffy as the clouds. Or perhaps the clouds were as fluffy as they. It mattered not. They appeared to be peacefully half-asleep, and their fellows would surely remain so if Shura decided to take one. She suspected they would be all fluff and little meat, so just in case, she swooped down and took two, grasping them in her front and back talons, respectively.

 

As she suspected, the sheep were very light, and the rest of the flock seemed perfectly content to keep grazing away since they weren’t the ones being lifted off. She took to the air again, in search of a nice spot for a meal.

 

 

~~

 

 

The air was frigid and the rush of the wind drowned out all other noise. Kalut struggled valiantly against the wind; his wings felt so cold that they burned. “Gale! Can you hear me, brother?” Kalut was not a deep thinker, but if he had been he might have considered the irony. He could barely make out his younger brother flapping below him, a green-and-violet blur against the stark white beauty of the mountains. He called to him again, and he seemed to hear; or at the very least, he started rising to meet him.

 

“I hear you,” said Gale, coming up beside him, his strange headwings flapping about at odd angles. Gale’s ears were razor-sharp as always; sometimes Kalut wondered if the headwings had anything to do with it. “How did we get talked into this again?” Gale shouted over the roar of the wind. “It’s our duty to serve the tribe!” Kalut replied. They were still young, not well suited to train under Zephyros – but they could still fly with the best of ‘em. So if messenger was the best job they could do, Kalut would do it and do it gladly.

 

Unfortunately, the wind seemed to be proving too much for Kalut. Gale frowned. “You don’t look so good, brother. Perhaps you should fly behind me for a bit?” Not to be shown up by his kid brother, Kalut shook his head furiously in the wind. “Of course not. This wind is nothing!” He struggled against the wind and continued on to the lands of the Far North.

 

 

~~

 

 

Pikeru happily strolled through the meadow outside her house, bright pink curls bouncing as she walked. Staff in hand, she walked among clouds of adorable sheep, peacefully grazing. As she counted, she quickly realized something was amiss…

 

She ran back to the house in tears. “A bird, you say? You’re sure it wasn’t a wolf?” asked Pikeru’s father. Pikeru shook her head. She had not seen the creature but she was absolutely certain that it was a bird what made off with her sheep.

 

“Well, then,” said Pikeru’s father, “we will just have to deal with this.” He retrieved a large key around his neck and walked over to the thick steel-reinforced cabinet, where he kept his seven finest weapons. He opened the cabinet and retrieved a crossbow and a pouch of bolts. “Just the thing, for birds and whatnot.” He called down the stairs for the nurse. “Dian! I’m going hunting! Take good care of Pikeru while I am gone.” The elderly nurse came up the stairs, as the hunter left the estate in search of the culprit.

 

 

~~

 

 

Fane wasn’t sure what day it was. An armed escort came for him at his cell and dragged him into a well-lit, white square room, with three finely ornamented doors, all of them tightly locked. They restrained him with manacles wrought with white and gold – though they clamped tightly, they strangely did not chafe or hurt his arms. Was this an interrogation? One would expect more unpleasant conditions. The guards left.

 

The left door swung open. Two figures entered. The first, the one with the key, he recognized as Garoth, in full armor, though he had mercifully left his halberd behind. The other was a tall blonde female with tanned skin. She, too, carried no weapon, but Fane could sense a blazing energy in her hands. It was the sort that his instructors had shown when they performed their lethal ki techniques. An execution, then? At least he’d get to see something interesting before he died.

 

Garoth smiled. “Oh, so you’re the prisoner? Whaddya know.” Fane was no fool; the man wasn’t surprised in the slightest. He suspected the man would enjoy the process. Fane was a bird who didn’t see a lot of good in people; not birds, and certainly not humans. People, he believed, liked inflicting pain. Some more than others. “Imagine that,” he responded flatly, without emotion. Garoth’s face lost its mirth but kept its smile. “Not much of a conversationalist, are you? Then let’s get down to business.”

 

He strode directly in front of Fane and looked him in the eye; if Fane could only stretch his neck two more inches, he’d have pecked the fool’s eyes out. “Now I’ve heard some things,” began Garoth, “about your tribe. I don’t have a lot of patience for birdwatching. But I have heard something interesting about one little bird in particular. Say he’s got strange powers. Sees the future. Sees things from other worlds. Sometimes puts ‘em in OUR world. You know anything about that?” Fane looked uneasily from side to side. “Well?” asked Garoth. Fane held his peace a moment longer, then screeched in Garoth’s face, sending him reeling. The woman behind Garoth winced; Garoth struck Fane across the face.

 

“Damn it, bird!” he, his blue hair now terribly unkempt. “The Emblem of Honor! Who is the Emblem of Honor?!?” Garoth punched Fane again; Fane just looked up him through a swollen eye. “You call that an interrogation? Ha!” Garoth stepped back with a loud snort. “Lumina, the Sabre.”

 

The woman quickly complied, moving her hands about rapidly as if assembling a blade; and lo, a blade appeared between them. It was a rapier, finely honed, with gold-plated handles and small wings on the sides. The blade fell into her hands and she handed it to Garoth. He held it before Fane. “This,” he began with malice ablaze in his voice, “is a gift from Kristya himself. The pain of every cut,” he said as he unsheathed the blade, “every strike, is the pain felt by your victims. The burden of your guilt. Would you like to know what your victims felt, or would you prefer to sing like a canary?” he asked threateningly.

 

Fane was not amused, nor would he show his fear. “Would you like to get on with it, or would you prefer to beat your chest like a dumb ape?” Garoth sneered and tore open Fane’s coat. He brought the blade down slowly, making a long, shallow cut into Fane’s chest. Screams echoed in his head; he felt hundreds of sharp pains, illusions of kunai sticking into his body. Another cut; he felt as though he were burning from the inside. It was all he could do to keep from screaming. “Had enough?” asked Garoth. Fane said nothing. Another cut, and he felt as though he were being clawed apart by his own talons. He felt as though he might burst.

 

“Alright! I don’t…I don’t know anything!” squawked Fane. “I’ve only heard the name! Nothing more! He’s…he’s not with the Raven tribe. I don’t know where he is.” “Useless,” said Garoth. “He tells truth, I expect, but a useless one.” He sheathed the blade, then slapped Fane across the face and strode back to the other side of the room. Lumina took the blade, and it vanished. “Get a Mender in here to heal his wounds. I’ve no more patience for the bird.” Garoth strode from the room; Lumina chanted, preparing to transport a healer.

 

 

~~

 

 

Shura sat in a small tree, lazily devouring the carcass of what was once a fluffy and exceedingly adorable sheep. It tasted somewhat bland, but it was surprisingly filling. She tossed the carcass aside and started on the second one. Suddenly, her meal was interrupted by a bolt whizzing by her head, sticking in the branch behind her. She immediately took wing, narrowly evading another shot.

 

She shouted angrily at the marksman; a hunter by trade, from the looks of it, dressed in green with a red cloak. “Drop your weapon, if you know what’s good for you!” she said, pointing a claw at the hunter. “What’s good for me?” asked the hunter. “I should know what’s good for me and mine. Those sheep are taken from my land, and my daughter weeps for their loss. I shall replace them with a fine stuffed bird as a trophy!” He raised the crossbow and fired yet another shot, but Shura was already a deep blue flash before the bolt left the weapon. She was upon the hunter in seconds, striking at his face with her talons; he blocked with his arm, and her talons found only a thick leather bracer.

 

Realizing her attack left her vulnerable, she promptly released the man’s arm as he fired yet another bolt, just missing her beak. She touched on the ground, and swiped with one of her enormous claws at the hunter’s chest. She left a large gash, and the hunter staggered, but fired another shot reflexively.

 

The hunter pulled another bolt from a pouch on his belt. This one was barbed, black and highly unpleasant looking; Shura could smell the poison dripping from the point. “Demon of the air, this bolt has your name on it. Come and claim it!” Shura had neither the time nor the energy to finish this fight, nor could she risk the venom in the hunter’s shot. She took to the sky and fled, leaving the second sheep untouched.

 

The hunter looked down at the sheep. Though his dear daughter would certainly be loath to see the sheep had for dinner, it was a shame to let the meat go to waste. He retrieved his lucky iron axe from his belt, and proceeded to chop down the tree for firewood.

 

 

~~

 

 

Gale and Kalut touched down in the snow; the frigid night air was too much to fly in. “Brother, let us rest here for the night,” said Gale, voice wavering. “It will be much warmer in the cave.” Kalut nodded, shivering too much to speak clearly. They entered the cave. As they proceeded slowly inward, it got both much darker and much warmer.

 

When it became almost too dark to see any further, Gale and Kalut both sat down, on opposite walls of the cave. Gale seemed perfectly suited to the cold, as if he’d lived there his whole life. Kalut frowned. His younger brother had always been tougher than him, and faster too, and it ate him alive. He couldn’t rightly blame his brother for the decisions of fate, chance or Simurgh…but he secretly did anyway.

 

Gale stared into space, at the blank walls. He seemed to be in his own little world, as happy as he ever was at home. Ever the daydreamer, he thought too much. Kalut was just happy to have a chance to sleep. A warm wind blew through the cave, lulling them to sleep…

 

Wait. That wasn’t right. “Gale…?” Kalut looked around. “Gale, do you smell something?” Gale blinked, and got to his feet; Kalut followed suit. “Yeah, I do. Smells like…burnt meat.” As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they could make out a faint silhouette stirring in the darkness. Something growled. “Uh…Gale?” Kalut asked. “Yes, brother?” asked Gale quietly. “I think we should probably find somewhere else to…” Gale couldn’t hear what he said next, for the words were drowned out by the roar of a dragon.

 

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter 3: Bird Brains]

 

 

In a clearing of an ancient forest, Sirocco meditates, deep in a three-day fast. He takes great care to disturb the forest as little as possible, for it is said that the forest is protected by a great dragon. Though he nears the end of the fast, he appears no worse off for it; his thin frame gives the impression that he is nearly always fasting.

 

In his focused delirium, he sees many things. Visions of angels, terrifying yet glorious. He dreams of dragons – protectors or destroyers, he knows not which. Finally, he has a vision of the great King of Birds, Simorgh himself in all his magnificence, but cast in deep shadow. What heresy is this? He wonders.

 

 

~~

 

 

Gale and Kalut stumbled backwards. The great dragon thrashed his head about in the dark, striking against the walls and shaking the whole cave. “Kalut!” shouted Gale. “We must fly! We’ll take our chances in the snow!” Another thrash rendered the argument moot; the ceiling came crashing down. The two brothers dove forward, covering their heads, and the darkness was complete. The cave was sealed in from this side. Gale and Kalut kept their heads down and their whimpers silent. Perhaps if they played dead, the dragon would fail to notice them.

 

An eternity passed; the cave fell silent again. Gale raised his head slowly, and crept forward, feeling his way to what appeared to be a steep drop off. There, illuminated by faint crystals that shone of their own accord, was the dragon, lying asleep in a great crater. Only its mouth lay out of the crater; it was either stuck or too comfortable to move.

 

“Brother. Brother,” whispered Gale, “it is asleep. The dragon is asleep.” That much destruction for a snore? Kalut crept to the edge to see for himself. “We should probably leave…” he started. “Leave for where? The entrance is blocked,” said Gale. “We’ll have to go around him. Very slowly.

 

“I don’t like this at all, little brother,” Kalut whispered, but complied.

 

 

~~

 

 

Aurkus waved his hands in the air to get the merchant’s attention. “Over here…careful now!” The merchant’s heavy lifters carried cages, solid steel reinforced with fire wards. The runes were inscribed all over the top of the box, and the inside of the cage would flash every so often as the beasts became…frustrated.

 

They laid the cages at Aurkus’s feet and stepped back, deferring to the merchant. The merchant was a small, strange fellow; he hid his face, and he made odd clicking sounds when he spoke, like a bug. This served to make his high-pitched voice infinitely more annoying, but he had what Aurkus needed and thus he would be tolerated…for now. “Three Firedogs, fresh from the molten ‘Vell,” began the Merchant. “I trust you have the necessary accommodations?” “Actually, yes I-“ “Well, I don’t care,” said the merchant, interrupting Aurkus with a flip of his hand. “You ordered them, now where’s my weapon?”

 

Aurkus reached into the pockets of his robes and handed him a small green dagger, far more intricately crafted than a weapon should ever be. The merchant took it and held it up to the light. “A Butterfly Dagger! The returning blade!” he gasped, clicking like a fiend all the while. “Banned in three countries and the whole Kanimo region! This is a suitable price,” he said. “Enjoy your little arsonists, now,” he said with a mocking bow, then turned and was escorted out by his lifters.

 

Aurkus patted the top of the cages, understanding the creatures’ longing to burn. It was an instinct for them, not malice…they burned not out of hatred but out of need. Nature’s course. And for Aurkus, it was nature’s course to destroy the unnatural. The bird-demons’ ensorcelled forests would be the first thing to go. “Not yet, boys,” he said…”not yet.”

 

 

~~

 

 

“Fellow hunters! This…is a very important day!” Bora listened silently as the new hunt leader gave his pep talk. He didn’t pay a lot of attention to the speech; words didn’t do much for him. Words didn’t slay beasts or feed villages; spears did. But Gust wasn’t a bad leader by any means, and he had some of the finest aerial defense he’d ever seen. If Silverwind had put him in charge for this hunt, that was fine.

 

Gust stood in the center of the hunters, unmistakable in his brilliant blue and green. “The moja, the King of Beasts, has risen again! We, as proud hunters of the Silverwind, are tasked with his demise!” The hunters saluted heartily. Failure to destroy the King moja was an ill omen; success was a guarantee of ample game in the near future. Bora was not a superstitious bird, but he knew this to be largely true. “To wing, my brothers, to wing!” said Gust, flapping twice, before lifting off towards the western forest. Bora was close behind him, hefting his massive spiral lance with surprising ease, and the rest of the hunters followed.

 

Gust and Bora stopped at the edge of the forest. Gust turned around and pointed at one of the hunters. “Etesian! We require your assistance.” He nodded and came to the front. “Anti-Reverse!” Gust and Bora began chanting in an ancient, clicking tongue; Etesian followed along. The other hunters just shrugged. The chanting grew louder and louder; the whole air seemed to charge with an ear-pounding force. A huge explosion erupted in the forest, sending animals charging away, their mark among them.

 

“The King moja!” shouted Etesian. He flapped and descended towards the black shape, but Bora was already on it, bringing the huge force of his spiral lance towards his foe. He struck right through the King moja, piercing it through the neck and emerging on the other side, tearing through flesh and fur. It howled in pain and stomped the earth with its many skeletal legs, yet it quickly appeared to mend. Bora cursed himself silently, having missed the head by mere inches. The beast’s fur swirled about, turning into wicked tendrils that chased after the fleeing lancer, but Bora flew faster than the tendrils could launch. Etesian came in to strike at the head, but the beast whirled around too quickly, catching him across the face with the whiplash from its tendrils.

 

“Gyuaahh!” screamed Etesian, as he was knocked aside, sprawling onto the ground near the forest. He struggled to get to his feet. He looked around, dazed; from out of the forest, he beheld a small, stooped apelike figure, carrying a hammer much too large for its small stature. Before he could even raise his weapon, the beast brought the hammer to his head, and he was flattened again with a sickening crack. He would not rise a third time.

 

“Strikers!” shouted Gust, pointing to the apelike creature. “Take them!” Two of the hunters dove towards the creature, strafing it. It appeared confused; raising its hammer, it prepared to swing at one of them, but the other caught it in the back with a spear. “Gotcha!” Etesian was avenged. The other stood at the edge of the forest, ready to fend off any other Strikers who emerged.

 

Gust and Bora circled the beast, diving in and out, striking at the creature’s wicked skull of a face. Each time, they found only a mass of blackness, which they struck and regenerated, before retreating out of reach. The hunters below were overwhelmed with the Strikers, who appeared determined to defend their King to the death. Another crack and a piercing death scream. It was a stalemate; Gust and Bora both knew that the casualties would mount quickly if they could not destroy the Moja.

 

Gust made an upward sweep, narrowly dodging a tendril, when he beheld in the sky above him a bird of brilliant blue, with black wings. He emitted a shrill cry, the universal sign for “alert.”

 

Shura heard the alarm and was shaken out of her peaceful drift. She looked down and beheld the fierce duel between the birds and the moja. She dove with intent to deliver a killing blow; Bora strafed the moja closely. Not three meters above the target, she screeched, and the creature’s back bristled. It immediately looked up, turning all attention to defending against Shura’s talons. The tendrils were thoroughly preoccupied. Bora circled around, struck the beast straight through the chin and pierced through the top of his head. The black mass went limp, and the creature collapsed in a heap.

 

Realizing their leader was bested, the Strikers turned and fled; Shura joined the rest of the hunters in chasing them into the forest, but they slew only three before the remainders escaped into the thick underbrush. They returned to the scene of the battle, where the spoils of war – the fell King moja skull – was claimed. Gust presented it to Bora. Bora, in turn, presented it to Shura.

 

“Me?” she asked, protesting the gift. “N-no, I insist. The killing strike was yours. It’s not proper.” Bora shook his head. “An honorable gift,” said Gust. “You gave aid when none was required. It’s yours.” Shura looked puzzled. “Uh…couldn’t he have said that himself?” Gust smiled. “He is a bird of few words. I cannot remember the last time I heard him speak.” Shura hesitated; Gust nodded intently. Supposing that perhaps the trophy would aid in gaining Silverwind’s trust, she accepted the skull.

 

“Please,” said Gust, “you are welcome on our lands. Join us.” “Of course,” said Shura. “I bear urgent news for Chief Silverwind.” “Then we should make haste,” said Gust. “Soldiers! To wing!” Bora shook his head and stuck his lance in the ground. “Uh…Bora?” he asked. Bora walked over to Etesian’s battered corpse and lifted it. He would ensure that the soldier received a proper burial before joining the others. Gust saluted him. The other hunters flapped and took off, Shura with them, carrying the skull of the King of the Beasts.

 

 

~~

 

 

In the crystal cave, Gale and Kalut slowly crept around the outside walls of the cave. The dragon appeared to be a light sleeper, judging from his sudden snore; even the flapping of their wings might have woken him. They kept moving ahead, towards the next faint crystal in the darkness.

 

Gale took a step forward and found only empty space; he fell into a hole and emitted a stifled scream. Kalut’s head whipped around; the dragon had stirred. Gale caught himself, and scrambled to get out of the way. The dragon rose its massive green head and roared, blasting a hot wind throughout the cavern. “Gale!” shouted Kalut, “ do something! He’s going to kill us!” “I don’t have anything,” said Gale, panicked. “Then fake it!” shouted Kalut again, taking wing and circling around the dragon to distract it. He dodged a fireball that singed his tail feathers, dove down low, and circled around again.

 

“Uh…right,” said Gale, looking around for inspiration. Eyeing the crystals, he noticed a particularly bright blue one, and dove for it. It broke off easily and sparked; he felt the power surging through his wings almost immediately. “Hey, you!” he shouted at the dragon. “Catch!” He hurled the brittle piece of crystal at the dragon’s head, and it flinched from the shock as the crystal shattered. It was like…crystallized lightning! He broke off another piece, and another, and joined his brother in circling the beast. “The blue ones, brother!” he shouted to Kalut. “Hit him with the blue ones!” Kalut followed suit; they circled the beast, pelting him with the blue crystals.

 

The dragon roared in pain and thrashed about, but he couldn’t see through his fading vision well enough to lash out at his attackers. When he appeared to be thoroughly stunned, the two brothers circled around and struck at the beast, bringing its head to the ground with a thud.

 

“Is it dead?” shouted Kalut, still standing on the dragon’s head. “I don’t care!” said Gale, flapping about. “I’m all out of crystals and I’m not sticking around to find out! Let us fly, brother!” He proceeded through another exit on the other side, Kalut close behind him.

 

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter 4: Two Birds With One Stone]

 

 

Gale and Kalut struggled on through the storm, bitterly fighting against wind and snow. The sun was rising on them, now – they had not stopped to rest since leaving the cave, for fear they would not wake up – and the wind howled just as fiercely. Unable to move forward in the air, for the wind pushed them ever backwards, they were forced to the ground.

 

They stumbled through the snow, too cold even to make a coherent sentence with their chattering beaks. At the edge of the next rise, Kalut stumbled and fell. Gale rushed to his aid. “K-kalut…y’can’t sleep now. C-can’t sleep.” He tugged at Kalut’s wings, trying to pull him up over the rise, but exhausted his strength as well, and he collapsed in a heap with his brother. Everything else was a rush of white and blue, and he didn’t really care as long as he got to sleep.

 

 

 

~~

 

 

Three days was up. From the deepest, darkest reaches of the ancient forest, Sirocco emerged, weary from his fast and meditations. He walked out of the forest slowly, with greatest care, as if his legs might snap in two if he stepped the wrong way. As he stepped into the light, he reached out and plucked a leaf from a great tree, a tree which was surely old as time.

 

He looked down at the leaf, a strange leaf shaped like a pair of wings. He reached out and bit into it. It was bitter, and far from providing nourishment left a hollow feeling in his stomach. Yet his mind felt even clearer. It was a revelation not like the vision, not hazy or distorted, but painfully clear, like staring directly into the heart of the sun, and not blinking.

 

He saw a pillar of smoke. He saw a burning forest, full of rampaging beasts that romped and played in the flames. He was birds flying about, screeching in terror. The Tree of Flashing Talons burned brightly. Then beheld a black-coated bird, sitting in a dim room. In the vision, he saw the bird’s eyes, and it seemed that the bird was looking back at him. The Emblem of Honor, he breathed. He saw into the bird’s mind, and in the bird’s mind was a dragon, a dragon with black feathers.

 

If only he were not so weak! If only he had known! He stripped a branch of its leaves and stumbled out of the forest. The wrath of the fairy-dragon meant nothing if his strength failed him on this flight.

 

 

~~

 

 

“Strike! Back aaaand strike! Back aaaand strike!” Zephyros’s soldiers drilled over and over again, a row of black wings and spears flapping in the air. They thrust forward and withdrew, maintaining their height and formation all the while. They mastered control quickly, for if they didn’t, they would find themselves stuck in the back by painful, if nonlethal, spears. It was a grueling exercise, but effective; there had not been one injury today. They were almost skilled enough to be considered cannon fodder, he thought.

 

Zephyros flapped triumphantly before them with an infuriating calm, calculated to drive them into a frenzy. But if they did, of course, they would break rank and be punished further. All part of the test, thought Zephyros. He craned his neck around to the west, and his painfully calm façade fell apart. He beheld two great, galloping beasts, canine in shape and igneous in color. The firedogs approached with incredible speed, setting the plains aflame as they ran. “On your guard!” he shouted. “This just became a working exercise.” The soldiers gripped their weapons and broke into two groups, flanking the beasts.

 

As the beasts approached, Zephyros fell from above, delivering a death-blow with his claws to the firedog’s skull, but the dog leaned to the left at the last moment. The claws left a vicious gash, but the fire in the dog’s veins did as much damage to Zephyros as he did to the dog. The dog rounded on him and pinned him to the ground; Zephyros held the beast’s jaws shut as he tried to force it off him, his claws burning as he did so. The firedogs were not alone; from his position on the ground, he beheld a white-armored soldier with the head of a dog. Kristya’s army!

 

“Full alert! Warn Elphin!” he shouted, struggling under the beast’s grip. The second firedog was en route for the Tree of Flashing Talons, six winged soldiers in hot pursuit. Wrenching his arm free beneath the creature’s burning paw, Zephyros struck the beast across the face, broke its jaw, and then its neck. The beast’s body turned to ash as he dropped it. The Talon Guard, alerted to their commander’s position, assembled behind Zephyros to face the coming storm.

 

 

~~

 

 

Wulf charged ahead like a great rolling rock. He was a force of nature that wouldn’t stop until it reached an immovable object. The target was in his sights; the Firedog had done its work on the leader, and now it was time to finish him off for a crushing blow to morale. The captain looked as if he could barely stand, let alone fly, and his burn wounds were obvious even from a distance.

 

As he closed in on Zephyros, his guards moved around to defend him from the direct assault. Wulf brought his massive polearm to bear on his enemies, sweeping through three of them with a single stroke – Zephyros not among them. He nimbly dodged under the axe-blade, lunged upwards, and slashed Wulf across the face, tearing out one eye, before lunging backwards and into the air. He was more than capable of flight, Wulf thought furiously, as he howled in pain. Before he knew what was happening, the birds were upon him. He swung wildly, knocking the birds aside; one of them went down for good, cleaved nearly in two by Wulf’s massive polearm. But as quickly as he could knock one of them away, another tore into his back or sides. Though he fought valiantly, they slowly wore him down through sheer numbers and force of will.

 

Jain and Aurkus looked on dispassionately as their fallen ally quickly became bird food. Aurkus had never had much patience for Wulf in particular. He was a half-man, half-beast – an abomination to nature, if not to Kristya himself. Jain, on the other hand, never felt much of anything at all – it was nothing personal. Wulf was merely the bait for the trap which they had set. Now all that was left was to snap it.

 

“Lyla, at the ready.” The raven-haired sorceress stepped forward, muttering something arcane under her breath, preparing the spell. Silhouettes appeared in the burning lines of traced by the firedogs and stepped out of the fire. They were now surrounded by a fearsome force of blood-red dragons, breathing flame. The Talon Guard attempted to take wing, but promptly found themselves sealed in by a nightmarish cage of black spikes; a distasteful but effective spell selected by Aurkus for just such an occasion. Aurkus himself wouldn’t dare utter it, of course, but Lyla was a bit more experimental with her magics. The birds were caged in with the dragons. This wouldn’t end well, thought Zephyros, but he would fight like a demon in any case. “Keep away, boys! Don’t group together or we’re all roasted!”

 

 

~~

 

 

“What!? Here NOW?” Elphin’s eyes grew wide. “They couldn’t possibly have recovered so quickly!” He was on his feet in the blink of an eye.” He pushed the terrified recruit out of the way and walked forward, leaning between two branches with his arms. “Mistral! All regular troops are at your command. Defend as much of the forest as you can, but hold this tree with your life. It cannot fall!” Mistral grunted and extended his sharp-edged wings. Elphin smiled without mirth, then dove from the tree, swooping over the battlefield towards the sorceress.

 

Aurkus spotted the Chief headed right for them. “I believe it’s trying to interrupt our spell, Jain. You’re on guard,” he said, and stepped back. Jain nodded, unsheathing a pale white blade, and standing poised to strike. Elphin swooped in low, looking as if he were going to body-slam the paladin, before looping up and around in the air, divebombing the paladin with a fearsome speed! Black feathers scattered everywhere, but Elphin’s feint had failed. Jain parried Elphin’s talons with a fierce swing of the blade, pushing him off into the air, and pointed the blade right at him. A shining ray of light fired from the paladin’s weapon, piercing Elphin’s wing like a blade.

 

The attack sent Elphin reeling and screeching, a piercing cry that echoed for miles. He wasn’t done yet.

 

 

~~

 

 

The forest was being overrun; the edges were already in flames and a horde of firedogs, dragons, and raging sprites were happily spreading the blaze. They torched everything that would catch fire and several things that shouldn’t. The dragons marched in formation like an army, but the newly spawned firedogs romped about like wild dogs at play, ignorant of the destruction they caused. One of the firedogs rounded on a mere chick, barely old enough to fly, and sprung playfully, unaware that even its tongue was a deadly weapon capable of searing flesh.

 

The firedog found itself repulsed by a fierce kick as Ghibli appeared in a hail of feathers. “Back, you monster! Back!” squawked the bird, flapping wildly with outstretched wings, trying to appear as large as possible. The firedog emitted a whimper, and started barking. Ghibli would soon find himself surrounded by the whole pack. The chick nestled against him in terror. Ghibli picked up the chick and lifted him into the trees, but couldn’t leave him there…soon even the treetops wouldn’t be safe.

 

Mistral and the other soldiers tore through wave after wave of the fire creatures, but every pile of ashes was a breeding ground for more. His hard-edged wings were covered in soot and they burned intensely, but he never wavered. He and the other soldiers held position around the base of the Tree of Flashing Talons. If he had to burn in place of every tree in the forest, by Simorgh, he would do it!

 

~~

 

 

Sirocco’s stomach and wings ached in equal measure, but he felt little of it; his mental training had long detached him from such physical things. All that mattered was his mission, and the fortress-tree was in view. The sight of smoke did not dishearten him; he dove into the trees and joined the battlefield around the tree. “Glad you could join us, Shaman,” said Mistral. “Heads up!” he shouted as a firedog pounced from behind. Sirocco whirled around, planting his arms on the ground as he tore open the creature’s throat with his talons. The corpse fell and turned to ashes.

 

Mistral looked impressed. “Not bad, you old buzzard,” he said. “Odd technique, though.” “Merely enlightened,” said Sirocco, rising to his feet once more. “Where is Chief Elphin?” he asked. “He swooped right onto the battlefield, the noble fool,” said Mistral, turning away. “I suggest you go help him before he kills himself--” He turned back, and Sirocco was already gone. “You four!” he shouted, pointing at a squad of his soldiers, “go with him. We’ll handle the dogs.” They saluted and complied.

 

 

~~

 

 

Elphin swooped about in a whirlwind of black feathers, narrowly evading blades and bursts of light from the mysterious, white-haired guardian. Every time he got near the sorceress, Jain would drive him off again. Did this soldier never tire? With every attack, the paladin almost seemed to grow stronger! Aurkus seemed mildly amused at the game of cat-and-mouse.

 

“Join me, my brothers!” said Sirocco, in a voice that echoed even in the open field. “I have seen the truth! Defy the light that blinds!” Four soldiers flapped behind him in perfect synchronization. Elphin looked overhead; he had to move out of the way as the five birds divebombed the sorceress in a gigantic shower of black feathers. The guardian was knocked aside by the sheer force; the sorceress was knocked flat.

 

Elphin gaped. They landed on the other side, mirror-images of one another. Their movements were identical – they fought as one body, a single entity. Elphin was grateful for the assistance, but he wasn’t sure whose power worried him more.

 

 

~~

 

 

Another of the Talon Guard went down, savaged by a blood-red dragon. Zephyros picked up the dragon, slammed it against the spiked wall of the cage, and delivered a death-blow to its neck, snapping it instantly. Both the dragon and the wall crumbled away. He looked around; the sorceress’s spell was broken, and the cage-match was over. Only three of the Talon Guard remained standing – the rest were burning corpses.

 

“We’re not done yet,” shouted Zephyros, pointing at Aurkus and his comrades, who scrambled to their feet. “Our brothers will not have died in vain!” They took flight. Joining with Sirocco’s forces, they looked as though the numbers were finally on their side.

 

The birds were circling. Fortunately, Aurkus had a plan. He retrieved a strange object from within his robes; a strange jar set with a gem, with tree-roots growing all around it. He shattered the gem upon the ground, and Jain, Lyla and Aurkus vanished in a shimmer of green light.

 

“They’ve escaped! Cowards!” raged Zephyros. “Come back and face us like birds!” “We’ve more important things to worry about,” said Elphin coldly. “How do you defeat an enemy that rises from your ashes?”

 

Sirocco spoke up. “The pain of innocents,” he said, his voice flat and distant. “fuels the dragon’s fire…then the fire consumes the fire.” “What are you babbling about, you damned fool?” shouted Zephyros, grabbing Sirocco and shaking him. “It’s over! Your blasted sorcery was too late! We lost!” Sirocco remained eerily calm. “We have not lost…not while a single feather remains…”

 

Sirocco spread his wings. Something cast a great shadow over the forest surrounding the Tree of Flashing Talons…and then the shadow seemed to cast an image itself. A deafening, hideous sound was heard, the sound of some titanic beast in mourning. A great dragon materialized above the trees, a dragon with black feathers. Its wings appeared to be on fire, and it writhed in pain, but flapped anyway. It rose higher above the trees, flapping faster, and faster.

 

Zephyros released Sirocco to watch the titanic beast unleash his power. Mistral looked up from his spot in the trees. He saw it get darker, he felt the wind. What monstrosity was this? “Clear out!” he shouted. “Evacuate immediately!” Birds flew in all directions, in strange patterns, for they fought the fearsome wind generated by the dragon.

 

When it looked as if the dragon would blow the forest itself away, it flapped one final time. The forest shook, and grew silent. The fire-creatures were snuffed out along with their fires, scattered as nothing but cold ash. The fire on the dragon’s wings was put out as well, leaving behind smoking holes. It let out one last mournful cry and vanished in a flurry of black feathers, leaving behind a ravaged deadlands of a forest. Though blackened through on one side, the Tree of Flashing Talons still stood.

 

It was little consolation; as Elphin walked through the ashen remains of the forest, it hardly seemed like a victory; chicks, hens, homes, burnt to a crisp, barely recognizable. “What do we do now?” asked one of the soldiers. For the first time since he took up the Chief’s mantle, Elphin could give no answer.

 

 

~~

 

 

The Silverwind tribe was something of a change for Shura, and not a welcome one. She knew about a few odd habits, but she hadn’t suspected that the tribe actually lived in ~gulp~ houses. That was such a terribly human thing to do, she thought. Still, she musn’t risk offending anyone. As they walked through the forest of tree-houses – apparently made out of something called bamboo – Bora kept close beside her. At first this bothered her, but she was used to it by now. Still, she wished the bird would actually speak to her.

 

Gust guided them to the residence of Chief Silverwind. Shura stopped at the edge of the bamboo hall. She had heard many things about Silverwind. She knew that he was quick to anger and slow to forgive, though admittedly quicker to forget. “Do you need an introduction,” asked Gust? “I’d be happy to give one.” “No, I’ll be fine, thanks,” she responded. She entered the hall.

 

Silverwind sat at the far end of the room, on a large seat that was actually part of the tree growing through the hall, carved into something between a perch and a throne. It was decorated with a number of fine trophies; most of them were bone, and three of them were moja skulls. Silverwind had a long mane of black feathers, stark golden eyes, and bronze armor on his legs. It was very clear that he had no need to expose his talons; his weapon of choice, a finely-honed daikatana, was leaning against the perch next to him.

 

“Come closer,” said Chief Silverwind slowly. “I can’t see you from here.” Shura walked to the front of the room, flanked by Gust and Bora, and knelt. “So…you are the one who slew the Moja,” continued the chief. Shura looked up, and hesitated. “Well?” asked Silverwind. Gust nodded. “Yes, Chief Silverwind. I have taken its head,” Shura said, presenting the yellowed skull to the Chief.

 

Silverwind nodded, his face inscrutable. He paused for a moment, then: “She has stolen the blessing of the moja from our tribe.” Shura’s eyes widened; Bora looked aghast. “I explicitly forbid outside help!” continued Silverwind, his voice rising. “Bind this usurper and take her away!” Silverwind’s guards stepped forward; Bora stepped in front of them, shielding Shura from them. The guards – the only people in the room with weapons - moved to remove him, but Silverwind stopped them.

 

“Something to say, Bora? Make it quick.” The guards backed off. Bora said nothing. “You may break your vow of silence, just this once.” added Silverwind, boredly. Bora nodded. “Chief Silverwind, if you please,” he said in a voice deep and surprisingly eloquent. “It was no fault of hers. I slew the beast with her aid. I pierced it through the skull while it cowered before her fearsome battle cry. I gave her the skull only so that she might gain your favor for the Raven tribe. She comes with a request.”

 

“I see,” said Silverwind. “So you are a liar, and she is a liar and a thief. I will not hear your request, Shura of the Raven Tribe. Bind them both.” he said, with a wide sweep of his hand. The guards promptly tied Shura and Bora’s hands, their feet and their wings together and carried them out. They ignored Shura’s protests; Bora remained silent anyhow. Silverwind picked up the yellowed skull and held it up. “Would anyone else like to claim this?” Gust looked sullen and said nothing. “Good. You’re dismissed.” Silverwind leaned back against the wall and hung the skull upon his throne. “We’ve discovered yet another liar in our midst, boys – very productive. Damned shame, though, he was a fine hunter. I suppose,” said Silverwind, running his fingers along the edge of his sword, “that his vow of silence shall soon be…irrelevant.”

 

 

~~

 

 

Kalut awoke in a round white room, and all he could think of was warm. It didn’t especially bother him that his head ached something fierce, that he could barely feel his legs or that he had no idea where he was – he was wrapped in a toasty fur blanket and that was really all that mattered. His head swam for a moment, and he heard Gale’s voice calling out to him in his head. His eyes shot opened white, he looked to the left and right and he saw his brother sleeping peacefully in the bed next to him.

 

He breathed a sigh of relief. He tried to move his arms with moderate success, and decided he didn’t really want to get up anyway. He spent a while staring at the ceiling, until he heard a shuffling noise. He tried to sit up to look at them, but a soft-feathered wing put his shoulder back down. “Don’t move too fast, or the medicine won’t work right,” said the high, pleasant voice of the bird leaning over him. Her feathers were a soft pink fading into gold, and her eyes dark. She might’ve been a little older than Gale or himself…but probably not.

 

She swirled a flask of red liquid around, opened Gale’s beak and poured half of it down his throat. Gale twitched a little, then went right back to sleep. Then she turned to Kalut. “Open wide.” Kalut grimaced. “Drink it already,” she said, “or you’ll never get the cold out.” He sighed and obeyed. The medicine tasted like dhalsaberries mixed with tree sap and a very old turnip, but in a few moments he could feel his claws again, and he didn’t feel quite so exhausted. He kicked under the blanket, but she held his legs still.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” said the bird. “What tribe are you from, anyway?” “I’m Kalut, of the Raven Tribe,” he said. “Well, I’m Breeze, of the Boreas tribe,” she said, mixing up more medicine in the flask. “And I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the Raven Tribe. What floe is that on?” “It’s not on a floe,” said Kalut. “We live in a tree.” “Oh, that sounds lovely,” replied Breeze without looking up, as the medicine she was making up turned a brilliant blue. “What’s a tree?”

 

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter 5: Why The Caged Bird Sings]

 

(quick link 4 space)

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter 5.5 - Birds Of A Feather]

 

(quick link 4 space)

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter 6: Nevermore]

 

(Quick Link 4 space)

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter 7: Birds of Paradise]

 

(quick link 4 space)

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter 8: Bird Is The Word]

 

(quick link 4 space)

 

 

 

 

[spoiler=Chapter 9: Birds Came Flying (At The Speed of Sound)]

 

http://forum.yugiohc...ost__p__5737228

 

 

 

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I'm going to stop listing every card I caught in the chapter, mostly because I'm really tired right now. But I did like the Swallow's Nest.

 

The only Blackwings you're missing now are Abroholos, Jet, and Ghibli (wait, did you have Ghibli?), is that right? Oh, and Oroshi the Squall.

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  • 2 weeks later...

[spoiler=Chapter 7: Birds Of Paradise]

 

The green-armored warrior sat on the riverbank, picking apart the remains of a large fish. His red scarf was draped about his shoulders, and his fine new blade was stuck in the ground beside him. The grass swayed back and forth in the gentle breeze, the smoldering remains of a campfire behind him. During the sunset, he was at peace.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the cat circling around him on softly padded feet, its eyes wide open and fixed on him. He looked it in the eye, and the cat looked back blankly. "Nyan," it said, and twitched its nose. The warrior tore off a strip of the fish and held it out to the cat. It circled around, sniffed at the warrior's gauntleted hand, then pounced upon his arm and happily devoured the fish.

The warrior smiled. The cat looked up, a piece of fish hanging out of its mouth, with inscrutable eyes. "You're a fearsome little thing," said the warrior, "aren't you…Rinyan." The cat was unconcerned with its new name; it was still preoccupied with the fish.

 

~~

 

Elphin walked. Still dazed from the sharp impact, he didn’t quite feel ready to fly yet, but he still carried Battlestorm's knife. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going, but it was better than staying out in the stark, open grassland. The air was cool here, though, and if he had not been so confused and tired, he might have found the area pleasant. Wildflowers grew at his feet. He spied a forest in the distance; it might be a good place to roost until he was at full strength again.

He never saw the creature coming. A creature with a huge face and skin like polished obsidian sprang at him from the ground and sent him reeling. "Hullo!" the creature shouted dumbly. Elphin swung the knife instinctively, leaving a deep gash in the creature's nose. The creature fell over, bawling like a baby. Elphin grimaced in surprise and horror.

"Aww, now look whatcha did," said a nasally voice behind him. Elphin whirled around to find the speaker glaring at him with two yellow eyestalks. Its lips were large and curled back into a sneer. "You've made him cry."

Elphin's horror subsided, though the strange yellow creature disturbed him a bit. "You should tell him not to sneak up on people," he said coldly. "Next time, he may scare someone with a longer knife." The yellow creature looked incredulous. "Sneak up?! He did no such thing." The creature folded his arms, while his two eyestalks scrutinized the raven. "All he said was hello," he finished.

"Look," said Elphin, "I don't have time to waste here. His nose should be fine, right? He's got plenty of it to go around." He looked back at the injured creature, but he was already up and on his feet, fleeing the scene, still crying his eyes out. "Wait!" said Elphin, then looked the other way to see the yellow creature scrambling to get away as well. He saw a shadow descend over the fleeing creature, and in a flash, he was snatched up by a fearsome bird of prey on green-feathered wings, with a brilliant crest of red.

He caught only a glimpse of the bird before it lifted off, nearly as quickly as it had appeared. The sounds of the creature's screams of terror faded until they could no longer be heard. He heard only the whisper of the wind, and found himself very much alone. He would worry about the local tribes later. He continued on towards the forest, resolute. This was all the more reason not to stay out in the open.

 

~~

 

Gale sat up slowly, and the world came into focus. He was aware only of a pounding headache and the strangest, most unpleasant tingling sensation he had ever felt. He was in a white room…yes, Chief Strom's feasting hall, that was it. And so there must have been a feast, but he didn't remember it. And right now, he didn't remember anything, nor did he particularly want to. At the moment, he really wanted to go back to sleep. Perhaps for the next six weeks or so, actually.

He tried to stand up, stumbled and fell again, striking his head on the floor. Unfortunately, it wasn't sufficient to knock him out, so he tried again. He fell again, but this time he felt not the hard floor, but soft feathers. He looked up groggily to see Breeze's soft face looking at him with concern, blurry though his vision was. "Don't do that," she scolded, "you'll hurt yourself." Evidently, he'd already done that, so there was no harm in doing further damage.

Gale looked up at her. "Don't about worry me, aislebe kay," he said. That was odd, he thought. He knew what he had been trying to say, the words just seemed to get out of order on the way to his mouth. Breeze led him over to a stool and gently pushed him onto it. "They don't have mead where you come from, do they?" she asked. Gale shook his head, if only because he didn't know what she was talking about. "Does the great hero need more medicine, then?" she asked slyly. He could only shake his head "no."

"Does that stuff…always do this?" he asked dumbly, feeling an unpleasant bulge in the back of his throat.. He wasn't the only one feeling the effects; a few other birds lay strewn about the floor, some on stools, some on tables, all very much unconscious. He wondered if they felt as bad as he did. He doubted it seriously. "Of course not," said Breeze seriously. "Unless, of course," she added, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "you drink six cups of the stuff and you've never had it before." Right, thought Gale. That made sense. "Is Kalut alright?" he managed to spit out intelligibly.

Breeze nodded. "He's fine. He's out ice-fishing with Blizzard." Gale nodded, staring off into space. Breeze put her hand on his shoulder. "I don't have the remedy ready yet," she said, suddenly very serious. "Stay here, and don't walk around too much." Another nod, only half-understanding. "Take care, Gale Wyrmslayer," she said, only half-meaning it, and kissed him on the cheek before turning to leave. He found himself alone, and then a restless half-sleep found him, tempered by a hundred raging dragons and fevered visions of a soft-feathered maiden that he dared not remember while awake.

 

~~

 

The green-armored warrior found himself in majestic fields of green, broken only by the blue line of the river and sometimes a lone tree. The cat was at his heels. He could never tell if the creature actually liked him or just followed him for the food (and to pounce and play with the long tails of his scarf).

Something, though, was amiss. He looked over the next rise, troubled by what he saw. The fields were the fresh, healthy, emerald green of his helmet and chestplate, but the sickly green glow he beheld at the horizon was anything but natural. He didn't like the looks of this at all, and neither did Rinyan. The cat cowered behind his leg, gripping it tightly - he shooed it away and then approached the next rise, his hand on his sword.

In the stretch of plain below, he beheld an altar made of bone that seemed not to have been built, but rather to have forced its way up through the ground of its own accord, tearing the land asunder. In front of the altar, indeed the source of the light, there was a strange, bestial figure with the shape of a man, but the thin arms of a starving beast, wearing bones for armor and a performer's costume. The creature danced like mad to the beats of drums and an ominous chanting that resounded from an audience of devils surrounding the altar, but also from beneath the earth itself.

To his horror, the warrior caught his feet moving to the discordant beat, and he immediately planted them firmly, as if afraid they might be seized by the force again. The beats grew louder and faster, the dancer's pace more hectic, his arms and feet contorting in ways humanly impossible, while the light in the center grew ever brighter. At last, when the drums struck a single, resonating beat, the creature thrust a hand into his chest, retrieved what appeared to be a human skull, and threw it into the altar, causing the light to flare brilliantly, before becoming a straight, thin line. The devils whooped and cheered.

While he watched in terror, the devils seemed to have been watching him. A cloaked devil with a pointed hat and a staff pointed at the warrior, speaking in some infernal tongue. Whatever the commands were, the subordinates were short, bony creatures carrying simple swords, wicked, mindless pawns that seemed made for one task only - crushing. As they came storming up the hill, he drew his blade with lightning speed, cleaving one of the devils in half, and in the same swift motion bringing the blade back around, driving the point behind him into the other's chest.

The second devil gasped and breathed out a noxious mist before keeling over, slipping off the warrior's blade easily. Whirling around, he barely had time to raise his sword as a giant black-red blade came down to meet it. The owner of the blade in question seemed to have replaced his own hand with it, and though its upper body was that of a man, its lower body was that of a skeletal horse. The fiendish centaur pulled back his blade and thrust it at the warrior's chest - he nimbly dodged to the left, leapt on top of the creature and, standing on the beast, delivered a decapitating swing before dimsounting.

Far from being horrified, though, the devils seemed to be impressed. Some of them grinned as they stepped in for a piece of the action, but they halted at the approach of a taller devil in a crown, presumably their leader. The language he spoke was completely unknown to the warrior, yet he understood it clear as day. "WANDERER, PILGRIM, WHY DO YOU INTERRUPT THE CELEBRATION OF OUR GAME?" said the fiend. "SURELY YOU SHOULD KNOW THE STAKES IF YOU ARE MADE TO PLAY."

The warrior looked around, keeping an eye on the devils in case they tried to pull a fast one. "No," he said, choosing his words carefully, "I'm afraid I don't know your stakes or your rules. But I, like your royal fool, can dance as well - a dance of blades." He pointed his sword at the fiends' king. "Let me pass, or I will dance the last dance you shall ever see." The king made a horrific, grinding, growling noise, something that might've passed for a laugh among these devils. "CLEVER WORDS, WHELP, THEY ARE," said the king, stroking its bony chin. "WE WILL TEACH YOU, AND SEE IF YOU CAN PLAY AS WELL AS YOU TALK."

The warrior looked down and saw a square materializing at his feet. The whole area seemed to rearrange itself into a square board, with alternating black-and-white squares. He didn't remember the name of this game, though he felt he should have. He couldn't move his feet, now. Angelic figures faded into being to the left and the right him, as the fiends in front of him slowly moved into similar formation on the opposite side of the board. "What sorcery is this?!" demanded the warrior.

"THE BEST KIND," said the king, grinning wickedly, spreading his arms wide as if trying to cover his whole army. The warrior was terribly confused, even more so when he heard a familiar voice, and looked over his shoulder to find the two thieves from earlier standing behind him, now dressed in royal robes and looking just as confused as he. "Now what have you gone and gotten us into now, Maenae?" asked Don Zaloog. Maenae just looked at him incredulously, and the warrior could've done the same.

"BLACK OR WHITE?" asked the fiends' king from across the board. "BLACK MOVES FIRST. IT'S ALL THE SAME TO US, OF COURSE."

 

~~

 

Silverwind's village seemed to come to a halt as all eyes were on the newcomers. The sorriest bunch of vagrant birds ever seen came single-file through the bamboo gates, flanked by armed escorts. They were there to protect their leader, not the vagrants (as if any of them save possibly the one in the golden mask could even muster the spirit to be a threat.) They stopped outside Silverwind's hall, where Gust waited to speak to them. "Three of you may enter. Do your best not to offend His Majesty," said Gust. "He is in a mood most foul and needs no provocation."

It was Mistral, Zephyros and Sirocco who chose to step forward and enter. Much to their surprise, the guards saluted as they approached Silverwind's throne. The tyrant sat upon his throne, running his fingers along the blade. Sirocco looked from Silverwind's eyes to his sword, and he could not tell which was sharper. He bowed low, and Mistral followed suit - Zephyros took a moment to swallow what was left of his pride, and finally did so as well. "Greetings, Lord Silverwind," said Sirocco. "You're a gracious host."'

"Not too gracious," responded Silverwind with the barest hint of a smile, "as you should know by now. We share a common enemy, but one can never be sure if the enemy of one's enemy" -- he looked over Mistral, in particular -- "is one's friend." Sirocco rose. "I assure you, we present no threat to you. You are strong, and the Raven Tribe is no more," he said solemnly. "Chief Elphin has vanished, lord, without a trace."

Silverwind's eyes lit up. "Has he now?" he said, hiding his excitement behind a brilliantly rehearsed veil of concern. "I assume, then, that he was without heir?" he said. "That's right," explained Sirocco. "Ordinarily, the Games would've been held to determine a new leader…but in our current situation…" Silverwind nodded sympathetically. "The solution is clear, of course. I have spoken with your ambassador-" he gestured to Shura, who stood off to the right, looking more than uneasy standing on Silverwind's side. "-and consulted with my sources…

"The Emblem of Honor, you mean," interrupted Zephyros. Silverwind appeared, for the first time in several years, to be caught completely off his guard. "Why…why yes," he said, forcing his face into a smile. "Yes, that's quite right. The Emblem has informed me that Kristya's army now favors expansion…possibly genocide, even. In light of such a development, I decided that the only option was an alliance. A unification of tribes. Perhaps," he added, "in light of recent events, it should be a permanent one."

Sirocco nodded. "It would seem that would be for the best," he said. Zephyros looked livid; it seemed he could barely contain his fury, but for some reason he found that the words to condemn the tyrant would not come. Shura felt his indignation, to be sure, but prayed that he hold his tongue at least until the negotiations were over. What did they have to bargain with, at any rate?

"I am very glad that that is settled," said Silverwind proudly. "I would graciously welcome you into the fold. Just see that you prove your worth on the field of battle." As he looked them over, Zephyros knew that the tyrant saw no beating hearts, only tools and weapons. He decided in that moment that he would prove himself the greatest weapon of all…if a slightly unreliable one. When his eyes and Shura's met, he was sure she felt the same.

 

~~

 

Elphin walked through the woods, pushing aside branches to get deeper into the heart of the forest. The further away from the edges he was, the safer he would be while he planned his next moves. He stepped with great care; he could have almost heard a pin drop. What he heard was nothing of the sort, but rather a splashing noise. Water, here in the woods? Most convenient, he thought, and approached the noise.

He pushed aside brush and bramble to find that his would-be personal oasis had already been occupied by a young woman, bathing in the stream. At first glance, he might've taken her for a human. Her head was covered in blonde hair, her body bare of feathers (or anything else, at the moment) save for her arms, which spread into pink-feathered wings, ending in talons. Against his wishes, Elphin could not fail to be struck by her beauty, alien though it were to him.

The young woman turned around and, at the sight of Elphin, let out a piercing scream that was two parts fear and one part fury, covering herself with the curtain of her wings. "Avert your eyes, bird," shouted the woman, "or I'll tear them out!" Elphin drew back and looked to the side, his hand over his eyes. "I meant no disrespect," he said hurriedly. "I'm just looking for a place to roost." She was not convinced. "Get out!" she screamed. "Your tribe is not welcome here!"

"My…my tribe?" asked Elphin, confused. How in the world would she have known about the Raven tribe? "Yes, brute - are you not of the Megaquake?" she asked. Megaquake? thought Elphin. What an absurd name. "I am of the Raven tribe," he explained. "What have we done to you?" "I've heard of no such "tribe." I think you're a liar," said the woman angrily, "and if you are not a liar you are at best a creep." She didn't move her wings but extended the talons on the end of them. They glittered in the shafts of sunlight between the trees.

"Leave," she said flatly. "If you are mistaken for Megaquake you will be slain on sight and our children will dance on your grave." Elphin took a step back and hesitated - there were many questions he needed answered. "Leave!" the woman repeated, in a tone that assured there would be no third warning. Elphin complied and left the forest in a hurry, wondering what sort of villains had soiled their name - and what sort of bird wore no feathers?

 

~~

 

Deep within Kristya's Citadel, two guards were having a deep discussion on the nature of the universe to keep themselves awake on the job. Their job, of course, was guarding an ornate, wrought-gold door, and neither of them actually knew what was behind it. "Say, Joreth." "Yeah?" said the other guard, sleepily. "Where d'you suppose a Firedog comes from?" Joreth looked at his partner dumbly. "They come from other Firedogs, I suppose," he said. "Naaaaah," said the other guard. "Because otherwise how do they just up an' appear? Babies don't just up and appear next ta wimmin, y'know…there's a process."

"Yes," said Joreth, "we're all familiar with the process. All I know is, they appear from the ashes. It's like they…grow out of the fire," he said confidently. "Nah," said the other guard, "I think when they burn they burn clear through to another dimension and then they call their pack. Joreth shook his head and laughed. "I think you need to lay off the ale, Dommin." "Yeah, well I think you need ta- ta…" He didn't get the rest out; instead, he slumped over on the floor. Joreth drew his sword instinctively, but then he felt a sharp pain on the back of his neck, and he collapsed as well.

Fane dropped from the ceiling, replacing the blowgun in his pocket. The guards were not dead, but the paralyzing potion worked like a charm. They'd be limp as ragdolls for the next four hours. He retrieved the elaborate key that Ehren had given him from the same pocket and opened the door, stepping into the Royal Magical Library.

The Library was a magnificent piece of work, an impossibly high tower lined with rows and rows of bookshelves that could never have been scaled by human casters without the aid of magical lifts. Fortunately, there were magical lifts scattered around the room for just such an occasion. Fane did not require these, of course; he took to the air and began his search, careful not to fly too high too fast in case someone else was in the room studying.

He located the tome he was looking for on the fourth tier, a dusty relic called the Book of Taiyou, a compendium of knowledge of the Realm of Light. He read of such legendary figures as the celestial king Shinato and Joan, the Guardian Angel, but there was little written about Kristya himself. What he found, however, was sure to be a rude awakening for the monk. He snapped the book shut and turned to leave, only to encounter a magician in a white hood. His robes and the tip of his staff were adorned with swirling blue orbs.

"Read quickly, thief," intoned the magician, a glorious, malevolent blue light swelling from beneath his robes. "It's the last thing you'll ever know."

 

 

 

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Okay, I can't help it...

 

Rinyan, Lightsworn Rogue

Ojama Black

Ojama Yellow

Harpie Lady

Harpie's Hunting Ground

(Forest?)

Pandemonium

Witch Doctor of Chaos?

Vilepawn Archfiend

Shadowknight Archfiend? (I checked the art for it, and it's not a centaur)

Terrorking Archfiend

Royal Magical Library]

Book of Taiyou

Skilled White Magician

 

Where DO Flamvell Firedogs came from? Well, it seems to me that they grow out of the fire...hey, wait a minute, Firedog can't search another Firedog - are the Lightsworns cheating?

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You pretty much nailed all of that, except the shrine dancer was Mad Archfiend. I mean, I just saw him and I thought, yeah, that guy can bust a move. And yes, I suppose you can count that as "Forest."

 

Of course Aurkus is cheating! What did you expect from the main villain? But really, in the story, mostly they spawn other Flamvells and occasionally a Firedog, but these two-bit guards have never seen one in action anyhow so they wouldn't know. Aurkus probably knows where they come from, but he'll never tell...

 

As for the Shadowknight, I confess I have no excuse. I genuinely thought he was a centaur for some strange reason. I'm gonna keep it anyway, since knights in chess are represented by horses.

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  • 2 weeks later...

I just finished reading Chapter 3, and it's quite the story so far. Every single detail intrigues me. I never get bored reading this. I love how even though the story is based on the war of the Blackwings and Lightsworns, simple monsters and such like the King of the Mojas / Beasts are a big part of the story as well.

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Blackwings will win this.

 

I know this because I used to run Lightsworns. I lost against my friend's Blackwings. They tried out LS while I mastered Blackwings.

 

I won.

 

And also because the Six threw an arrow at them.

 

It was Super Effective!

Critical Hit!

Gragonith, Lightsworn God fainted.

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  • 1 month later...

[spoiler=Chapter 8 - Bird Is The Word]

 

(Note: Antigone is pronounced "An-tig-un-ee," rather than "Ann-tee-gone," which sounds more like a bug repellant. I gave the Harpies Greek names because they were never named in the show, and Greek names are pretty boss. For Harpies, at least.)

 

Kalut twisted his legs around in the ice cold water, gripping the sides of the ice tightly. The cold was the worst in his left talon; the grub he was using as bait was almost making his foot numb. Nevertheless, his thrashing about was bound to get some fish's attention eventually. "Don't move too much, kid," said Blizzard. "You'll scare 'em off." Kalut grunted and nodded, bringing his movement back to a gentle sway.

His talon brushed against a scaled body, and another, and then another, rushing past in quick succession, trying to nibble at the grub. His talons groped wildly throughout the school of fish before finally clamping down on one. He heaved himself out of the water, almost striking his head on the ice as he did so, but proudly held up a white and gold fish that flapped its numerous fins furiously as if trying to fly out of his hand. Breeze giggled. "A golden flying fish!" she exclaimed. "Those are supposed to be lucky."

"It better be," Kalut grumbled, pulling himself up on the ice, still gripping the fish. "It better be tasty, too." Breeze seized the fish from Kalut's hands. "No!" she said. "You don't eat them. You're supposed to throw them back!" Kalut looked over at Blizzard, incredulous. Blizzard shrugged. "She's right. You're never supposed to eat a flying fish. Not that it's usually an issue, as they're so rare and all, but it's bad luck to eat one." Breeze dropped the fish back in the water and it vanished into the deep. Kalut watched it as it vanished, his stomach grumbling. That was the first big fish he'd caught all day.

"Don't worry," said Breeze. "We caught plenty of sunfish." She held up one of the sunfish from the pile - mostly Blizzard's catch, though not entirely. "Here, they're really good." Kalut took the fish and picked it apart; it did actually taste pretty good. The three birds sat down on the ice and devoured a great many of the sunfish before their meal was interrupted by the sound of huge, beating wings. Blizzard looked around nervously. "Does anybody else hear…?"

Kalut and Breeze shouted "RUN!" in unison, shooting off in opposite directions. Blizzard took to the air just in time to miss the crash behind him, smashing clear through the ice and crushing the remaining supply of sunfish. Blizzard looked back at the source of the noise - a gigantic dragon seemingly made of solid ice, but with a fire that burned inside it and failed to melt it. "What is that?!" asked Kalut, as Blizzard caught up with him. "Gungnir, the Second Spear!" said Blizzard hastily. "Your brother killed the First, and I don't think he appreciates it. Fly faster!" he shouted, narrowly dodging a speeding fireball. "He's got killer aim with that."

"Good to know," Kalut said coolly, but a scream echoed behind him that made his feathers stand on end. "Breeze," he said, barely audible, and dropped back, slowing his acceleration with his wings. "What're you doing, kid?" Blizzard called out and he turned around, but he already knew. "Don't be a hero!" he shouted, but Kalut's mind was far too busy with thoughts of doing just that to even hear. Blizzard couldn't go back for him, he hadn't the time. If Gungnir was headed towards the village, he had to warn the Chief immediately!

 

~~

 

"You!" shouted Zaloog, grasping his newly-found cloth robes in one hand, pointing at the green-armored warrior using the scepter in his other hand. "Uh…" He looked at Maenae, dressed in robes equally elaborate. She was at a loss for words entirely, so he turned back to the warrior. "What are we doing here?!" he demanded. The warrior shook his head. "I do not know, but I will ask."

He looked across the board to the Archfiends' king, who grinned wickedly at him. "YES?" asked the king, clearly expecting such an inquiry and enjoying the confusion. "Why are these two thieves here?" asked the warrior. "I thought that this was a personal challenge." The king nodded with the air of a slightly sadistic schoolmaster. "MY CHALLENGE IS WITH YOU. HOWEVER, IT IS CUSTOMARY THAT BOTH PLAYERS PLAY WITH…FAMILIAR PIECES." The warrior looked around. None of the pieces looked familiar, other than the two thieves, who were here placed in the role of royalty.

Facing off against the Archfiend's vile pawns, he saw strange, angelic beings, some of which were mechanical, some of which were organic. At any rate, none of them were human, and none of them were familiar. He had never seen these creatures in his life - was he now to command them? Why did that seem natural? He couldn't fathom the workings of the Archfiend's mind, but he suspected that the king was mocking him. He looked back at the two thieves. "It's a game. A very serious game, with high stakes. You've just got to trust me and do what I say."

Queen Maenae scoffed. "What are you talking about? I know how to play chess. That's exactly what this is, it's a game of chess." The warrior merely blinked, incredulous. King Zaloog interrupted with a grin. "I'd bet you didn't see that coming, huh? My girl's cultured, don't you know it. Not like this street rat," he said, pointing at himself; Maenae rolled her eyes. The warrior shook his head, putting idle questions out of his head. "You know how to play this game, then?" he asked Maenae.

"SHE CANNOT PLAY FOR YOU," said the King from across the board. "YOU MUST CALL YOUR MOVES." He extended a skeletal hand, and a large, winged hourglass materialized in it, filled with pink sand and topped with a moon. "TIME IS WASTING," he said without emotion. The warrior looked back at Maenae. "Explain this game to me, and if we survive, I'll give you back all of your gold." Maenae raised an eyebrow, and the warrior smiled inwardly, in spite of the situation. Nothing like gold to motivate a thief. "All of the gold, huh? What about the cat?" The warrior hesitated; he had grown fond of the cat. "On second thought," Maenae said, "I'm a dog person. Keep it."

"AHEM," intoned the King, clearing the throat that the warrior honestly wasn't sure that he had. "Right then," said the warrior. "What exactly do I need to do?" Maenae pointed towards one of the pawns, a creature that appeared to be nothing more than a ring of crystal with an orb floating in the center and a pair of small, metallic wings. "You're a pawn," said Maenae, mildly amused, "and so are all of those silly rings. You can move forward two spaces from here, and then you can only move one after that. But…I don't know what happens if your pawns get captured here, so you might want to move one of the other pawns."

"I do not understand this game at all," declared the warrior. Maenae shook her head. "Just move. I'll explain as we go." The warrior pointed at the pawn next to him. "Uh…Advance Two Squares!" he commanded, suddenly and inexplicably confident. The pawn flapped its wings and assumed its new position. The Archfiend King grinned his knowing grin as the hourglass flipped over; it was his turn now. "KNIGHT TO C-3."

 

~~

 

Fane dodged left, then right, then left again and made a break for the door as a bolt of lightning whizzed past his head, bouncing harmlessly off a wall that dissipated its energy. A useful feature for a library of magic, Fane would've thought, if he wasn't so busy avoiding the mage's spells. Not about to lose his quarry, the white magician extended a hand towards one of the shelves, and a thick book marked with the symbol of the moon flew into his hands. He threw the book open and read from the ancient, guttural texts contained within.

The door was there, and then it wasn't. Fane lunged for the handle, but the door - and everything else - vanished into an enveloping darkness. He slammed into the metal door and spun round, losing all sense of direction in the darkness. It seemed to be him a physical presence, rather than a mere lack of light, that surrounded him. He got to his feet, shut his eyes, and listened. He heard footsteps, and knew that he was not entirely alone in the darkness.

He thrust a hand into his coat, retrieving a kunai from the inside, and planted his feet firmly. The footsteps grew closer, though not especially loud or quick. Whoever was in the darkness with him was taking their time. He had the dagger in one hand and the book in the other - but what good did the book do him if he couldn't read it? Perhaps…he waited until the footsteps drew closer; they grew faster. He looked to his left, where the noise emanated from, and hurled the book at his attacker. There was a yelp and a flash of light; the attacker stumbled, dropping his sword, and the book exploded with glorious light, tearing the curtain of darkness away.

The attacker was a swordsman dressed in the silver armor of a noble, with long, golden hair. Fane wasted no time in slipping the kunai under the plates of his stunned assailant's armor and between his ribs, and just to be sure, breaking his neck. The attacker's body fell to the floor and vanished in a flash, becoming a bolt that returned to the magician, absorbed into one of the blue orbs he wore. Two of them shone now. Fane retrieved two more kunai from his jacket and hurled them at the magician.

The magician snapped his hand forward, and a swirling red and blue portal coalesced from it. The kunai vanished into the portal and ceased to be. Fane cursed beneath his breath. This was not his territory, it was the magician's. Every spell within the pages of these tomes was at his fingertips. But if Fane didn't fell his adversary here, he would surely be reported as escaped. What of the monk, when her negligence was discovered? She would likely fare no better than he.

He looked to the embers of the tome now smoldering on the floor, and an idea sparked in his mind. Seizing the burning book, he threw it with great force. The mage stepped backwards, projecting a shield to drain the magic from the book into his own deep reserves of power, but the hit never came. It sailed right over the magician's head, igniting the shelf of books behind him. It burned big and it burned bright, quickly consuming the magician's repository of spells.

The magician whirled around frantically to find the shelf going up in flames. Fane only needed the split second to lift off and close the distance between he and the magician. He didn't have time to react; Fane's hands closed firmly around his jaw and the top of his head, and his neck made a sickening crack. Though the flames crackled and roared, they were quite contained within the shelf, as the enchantments prevented it from spreading any further. He pushed the magician's body into the fire, where it would appear that he had somehow burned alive - a convenient accident, he thought, as he left to report back to Ehren.

 

~~

 

Six months, Antigone thought to herself. Absentmindedly, her talons brushed the sweeping, stone arms of the throne. It had been six long months since she had first sat upon the throne as Regent. She had felt no honor then, and she felt none now. Antigone looked to the corner of the sanctuary, where her sister sat, hunched over, tearing into a chunk of ojama flesh like a starving beast, strands of spiky, blue hair falling over her face. She found the sight unbearable. "Danae!" she shouted; the blue-haired woman looked up, a strip of flesh still hanging from her teeth.

Antigone cringed. "That's disgraceful," she declared. "You could at least use your arms, you know." Danae shrugged and began to pick the corpse apart, wielding her talons with all the subtlety of butcher knives. In no time at all, the floor around her was a bloody mess. "I just cleeeeaned that," whined a young, effeminate Harpie boy with spiky black hair. Danae looked up, clearly irate at having her meal disturbed, though apparently not yet angry enough to bother speaking about it. Fortunately, before that had a chance to go any farther…

"He just barged in!" said the guard, gesturing wildly at the intruder with her three-pronged pike. Thanks, thought Antigone, I couldn't tell. The raven had immediately stormed in and demanded to speak with the Harpies' chief. Who the hell did he think he was, showing his filthy face like that? The audacity was astounding. "I am she," said Antigone slowly, choosing her words cautiously. She did not know what the bird was playing at; if anyone knew where the chief really was, it was the Megaquake.

Elphin noted the red hair, the wings; likely as not, she was the hunter who had seized the strange creature on the plains. That was not important. "Who are the Megaquake?" asked Elphin. Antigone was quite taken aback by the question, but she hid it well. "Why, you should know who you are," said Antigone, a razor's edge in her voice. All eyes in the room were now on the Raven. Danae's were downright murderous, though that was no surprise, as they often were. Still, if it was enough to distract her from a meal, it was a powerful hatred indeed. In this case, Antigone might be ready to turn her loose.

"I have never heard of the tribe before," said Elphin hastily, quite aware of the eyes fixed sharply upon him. "Yet I have been accused of their crimes." Antigone nodded, expecting him to continue. "I wish to know what I stand accused of," the raven finished. The room was silent. The harpy boy looked to Antigone as if expecting her to deliver a divine rebuke to the black-winged devil. At last, the regent spoke.

"Abroholos of the Megaquake holds prisoner our Queen, Her Majesty, Europa," explained Antigone sorrowfully. "In a stroke of extraordinary misfortune, he happened upon a hunting party exhausted from a fight with the Behemoth, and overpowered them. They had no chance." Elphin nodded gravely. "I see." Antigone scrutinized the bird before her. He did not look familiar, but few in Abroholos' ragtag bunch ever did. "If you are not Megaquake, what are you," she asked, "and how did you come to know the name?"

"I am Elphin, Chief of the Raven Tribe," said the bird. "I have traveled far. I heard the name from one of your number." "Hmph." Antigone looked Elphin over, her face severe. "I suppose that you can understand if you have been treated rudely," she said. "Your reputation precedes you, false though it may be." Elphin looked to the left and right; the eyes of the other Harpies made it quite clear that they didn't believe a word of what Elphin - or their own leader - was saying. Nevertheless, he had a plan. "If you would, then, give me a chance to prove my noble intentions?" asked Elphin.

Antigone raised an eyebrow. "And just what do you intend?" she asked haughtily. Elphin proceeded to explain. "The actions of this tribe are intolerable!" he began. "If they would disregard the honor of the Black Feather Tribes, then they do not deserve to exist!" Elphin's voice rose; he extended a wing with great fervor, as if sweeping aside the illusions of all present. "I would volunteer to purge the offenders from the very earth and sky, and free your good queen!"

The Harpies appeared awestruck by the performance - all but Antigone, who appeared merely amused, and Danae, who just looked hungry. "Do you not think," began Antigone, "that if we could have found Abroholos that he would yet live? He is a coward, and his tribe lives underground, where our mastery of the sky means nothing." Elphin grinned. "Do you forget? I am Black Feather, as you have seen. I look no different from their members. Surely I can bring the Megaquake to you, that you may deal with them."

"Nothing would make me happier," said Antigone, "than serving revenge alongside my Queen. But what would you ask in return?" "Nothing at all," Elphin replied, "for the honor is enough…only…" he hesitated. "Yes?" she nodded, urging Elphin to continue. "Anything you know of Simorgh. That is all that I wish, to find the King of Birds." Antigone's face became deadly serious. "That is a serious task. Do you know what such a quest might entail?" she asked. Elphin nodded, understanding. "It is a quest that must be completed. If someone must do it, it might as well be I."

"Very well!" proclaimed Antigone, striking the arm of the chair firmly with the talons of her hand. "Deliver the Queen and Abroholos into our hands, and we will tell you of the King of Birds. Elphin nodded. "Farewell, then. There is no time to lose." He turned to leave. Antigone sighed as he saw Danae still watching Elphin…hungrily. She often worried about her sister, for several reasons. Nevertheless, he hoped that the raven would fulfill his promise… and that neither side would be disappointed.

 

~~

 

The deep, thundering sounds of horns rang throughout the village. As Gale stepped into the village square, he was nearly knocked over when two frantic birds rushed past him in a panic. "Watch where your goin'!" shouted an angry Blizzard at the pair, and then turned to Gale. "You feelin' up to slayin' another dragon, kid?" The Hells, he was! he thought incredulously. Just this morning he could barely stand up, thanks to their damned poison somethingorother water! But his mouth wouldn't speak the words. His thoughts were with Breeze.

"KID!" shouted Blizzard in his ear, rattling his whole body. "This ain't the time for deep considerations. If you ain't gonna fight, you better get the hell out before Gungnir rips this place a new one! "Yeah," he said automatically, "I'll fight." If he didn't say it now, he never would, right? Something like that. "Good," said a voice from behind him, stepping out of the hall. It was none other than Chief Strom, masked and armed with a wickedly sharp harpoon gun. "Look alive, now," he said. "It comes." The great ice dragon loomed out of the fog, spitting bolts of fire in the air. Just what was he aiming at? Gale didn't have to ask.

 

~~

 

Bora had not spoken since the incident. Well…that was actually pretty normal for Bora, thought Gust, but at least he kind of gave an idea of what he was thinking. He walked around like a zombie on his patrols, his eyes scanning everything and seeing nothing. He dared not approach the bird; who knew what he was capable of in this state? Gust kept his distance and focused on training the Raven survivors in Silverwind's particular brand of warfare.

Shura was his best student, as much as he hated to admit it. And really, he did. He recalled the match earlier today. She and a loutish bird with several feathers missing from the side of his head went at it, armed with bamboo swords and a magnificent fury. She mastered the Sky Forms flawlessly, belting out each blow with a rigid grace, every strike like a wave of stone. Shura repeated the forms so fast, it kept her opponent on the defensive, desperate just to hold his own. Gust almost forgot that it was a sparring match.

There was a splintering of wood; the remains of a shattered bamboo sword flew out of the loutish bird's hands. The bird keeled over, spitting blood, as Shura struck him in the stomach, and prepared to deliver a killing blow to the face. "STOP!" shouted a bewildered Gust. Shura was done for the day. It was the first match she hadn't won since she had been here.

This isn't the enemy, you fool! You could've killed somebody… The words echoed in Shura's head as she stood at the edge of the swamp, skipping rocks over the surface. And what of it? she wanted to scream. What was the difference between that stupid bird and every stupid soldier wearing Kristya's mark on their helmets? They were stupid pawns in a stupid game run by stupid tyrants. Either one of them was willing to die, to kill, to set fire to a home. What was the difference? The difference was, that one had feathers, just like me. That's why he's not the enemy.

Silverwind watched Shura's progress, and he recognized all too well the cold fire burning in her eyes.

 

~~

 

"ROOK TO D8." The monstrous Desrook scuttled forward on spiderlegs, its stone-and-bone face quickly devouring an angelic pawn. Just two spaces away, the warrior in green cringed as he heard every hideous crunching noise. T'was worth it, though. "Maenae! Advance!" Maenae slid across the board, borne on a gust of wind, and struck the Desrook with her thorny scepter. It shattered into pieces.

The hourglass turned, and while the green-armored hero watched a bishop slide into place, Maenae whispered urgently to him. "You need to advance. Their back row is wide open there!" She was right. "What happens if I get to the back row?" asked the warrior. "You'll be able to get back one of your captured pieces. It's like your pawn is getting promoted." Right…that was always a good thing. He moved ahead one space. The Archfiends' king looked troubled. His queen was on the other side of the board, his rook kaput…he had nothing to defend the spot with now. He moved a bishop to take a rival knight and ended his turn.

With enthusiasm, the green-armored warrior stepped forward onto the square, and surged with power. He felt energies coursing through him, but almost instantly, he knew something was wrong. This was not the promotion he had had in mind. He felt his body contort and expand, his armor warp and deform. His vision went red, and all he could see through it was the twisted puppet-master, that terrible KING, that he very much wanted to KILL. "IT IS TOO SOON," the king stammered. "TOO SOON! SOMEONE STOP IT!" The warrior's armor fused with his flesh and became twisted, devilish wings, his arms fiendish claws.

Zaloog stared in amazement and Maenae screamed and swore. Her plan had gone horribly awry. The board flickered and disappeared, and as soon as the thieves realized they could move their legs freely again, they made quick work of them and fled straight towards the nearest forest. The newly-formed demon, now nearly three times the height of every former "piece" on the board, felt no allegiance to the Archfiends nor to his former allies; his claws tore through friend and foe alike.

The demon roared, and green flame spat from his mouth, setting the ground (and several fleeing fiends) ablaze. The few fiends still loyal to their dark king were no match for his power. The altar of Pandaemonium fell dark and silent as he absorbed all of it into his body. The King mysteriously vanished in the confusion, but this did not matter to Mazera DeVille. In his absence, the royal court would suffer his vengeance.

 

~~

 

The grounds outside Ehren's temple would have been quite serene if not for the constant interruptions. Fane was glad for the change of scenery, but the sound of steel boots marching on hard stone was becoming all too familiar to him. Rarely did it signal anything good. He looked up from his meditations, expecting to see the blue-haired, wild-eyed oaf again. He was surprised, although not pleasantly, to instead see a pale, white-haired swords…man? Swordswoman? Fane could not be certain and frankly did not care, but the warrior was flanked by two guards in white and gold platemail, and his or her sword was drawn, held low to the side as if cocked and spring-loaded. The warrior's entire bearing was a barely-veiled death threat.

Fane looked up and placed his hands on the soft grass, looking very "at peace," though naturally, he wasn't. He watched Ehren stride from her place at the entrance to the temple, treading upon the stepping stones, to greet the warrior. "Jain," she said pleasantly. "I didn't expect to see you here." Her eyes moved to the sword. "Something wrong?" she asked, already aware of the answer. The warrior wasted no time and revealed no emotion. "Arson. The Royal Magical Library has been attacked by an arsonist." The warrior pointed the sword at Fane, who looked taken aback. "This bird is...most familiar with the art."

Ehren nodded gravely. "That is true. He would be the prime suspect. However, he has been in my personal custody since before sunup," she explained to the warrior, but it didn't appear to register. Ehren looked up thoughtfully. "I believe Master Aurkus recently purchased a pair of rare Flamvellian fire-dogs from a shady-looking merchant. Perhaps you ought to speak with him on the subject." Jain eyed the monk carefully. "Are you accusing Master Aurkus of arson and treason?" she asked.

Ehren respectfully shook her head. "Not at all. I was merely pointing out that the fire-dogs might have been involved. Perhaps they escaped from their cages while Aurkus was not looking. We are all only human, after all," she finished, with a small, mirthless smile. Jain's eyes narrowed in malice, but nevertheless, the warrior sheathed the sword and turned to leave. "Good to see you are keeping an eye on the bird. Keep it close."

When Jain had gone, Ehren took her place sitting beside Fane and addressed him in a low, hoarse whisper. "Tell me everything you know."

 

~~

 

Breeze stepped quickly and lightly through the fog. How had it come so quickly? Maybe Gungnir had brought it; who knows what fearsome powers Brionac's siblings had? She couldn't see far enough to fly, and even if she could, she was surely safer on the ground. Spotting the entrance of a crevice between two glaciers through the fog, she stepped into it, and collapsed with her back to the wall with a sigh and a sob. Now what was she supposed to do? Go back to the village? It would be a ruin when she got there.

This was that stupid bird's fault, yes, the one with the silly wings on his ears. She had warned him not to fight Brionac. Brionac had slain over thirty hunters, and those were just the ones whose bodies were left to identify. His armor was unbreakable, his jaws inescapable! Brionac was death incarnate, but he was a slow death, a patient one. Then that stupid bird with the ears had to ruin it! He angered something, woke it up, something worse than Brionac could ever be. Gungnir would leave no one behind to rebuild.

She heard footfalls in the snow, coming from inside the cave. Seizing a nearby stone, she leapt to her feet and backed away from the entrance warily. The figure that emerged was unfamiliar, garbed in white robes and blue armor, wearing a square crown. His long black hair blew about in the sharp wind, and he wore a broad-bladed sword at his waist. Breeze had never seen the creature before, but she had heard tales of them. She was sure that this must be a human!

The human approached Breeze, with a face as hard as stone and eyes cold as ice. The barest hint of a smile threatened to cross his lips, but seemed afraid that it would be snuffed out of existence entirely if it did. Breeze jumped back and held the stone high in the air. She had heard somewhere that humans sometimes ate birds, or occasionally stuffed them like trophies, and she wanted no part of either! "Back off!" she yelled sharply, but the human continued at his normal pace. "Fly away then, bird," he said, eyes twinkling. "There's plenty of room in the sky, after all."

Breeze hurled the stone at the human. He had been waiting for it; his arm shot out immediately in front of the rock and flashed with an azure light. The stone froze over with ice and stopped dead as if caught in midair, though the man had never even touched it! The man clenched his fist and the icy rock shattered; Breeze shut her eyes and shielded her face with her wings. She felt a gloved hand seize her by the wing, and she was abruptly lifted into the air, kicking and screaming. "Let go!" she said, fiercely kicking at the human's chest, but his armor absorbed the blows and would not give way to her talons.

If she could just reach his face, she'd tear it to pieces! she thought. Unfortunately, gravity flatly refused this plea, and at last she just hung loosely, looking defiantly up at her captor. "Well, you're a live one, aren't you?" said the human. The smile faded entirely. "I see the spirit that brings down titans is alive and well, even in the smallest of souls." In the distance, the earth rumbled, and the human looked in that direction. "It seems you will have your chance to prove yourselves again…" he said, his voice trailing off.

"Hey!" called a voice nearby, just barely obscured by fog. The human looked up in surprise as Kalut came barreling through the fog, nearly plowing into him, but he narrowly evaded at the last second. "Let her go!" shouted Kalut, and lunged to the side, trying to elbow the human in the face. The human held Breeze in front of him as a shield; Kalut shifted in the air and fell to the side, landing face-down in the snow. The human chuckled darkly and drew his sword. "Really," he said with admonishment, "that was sloppy." "Kalut! Look out!" shouted Breeze, struggling against the human's grip. Kalut rolled out of the way, just as the human plunged his sword into the ground right where Kalut's head would've been.

He struggled to his feet to find the human backing away into the mists, his sword in one hand, and Breeze in the other. He started towards the man, but faltered. The blade was dangerously close to her throat. "If you'll excuse us," said the human, "we've got a battle to watch. I would advise you not to follow." Breeze looked at Kalut with one last, sorrowful gaze, before she and the human vanished into the fog, leaving Kalut very much alone.

 

 

 

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  • 3 weeks later...

Vague indeed. Working in chapter 9, are you?

 

At some point I'll have it up. Between the Song of Arcadia Set, Halo Reach, college, looking for a job, and still maintaing some semblance of a social life, it's coming along slowly.

 

But yeah, I did want to make sure someone still had interest in it before I kept writing, so thanks.

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  • 3 months later...
  • 3 weeks later...
  • 9 months later...

[quote][b][u]BUMPING[/u][/b]
[color=#5A5A5A][font=tahoma, helvetica, arial, sans-serif][size=3]Unlike in other forums, bumping is permitted from any period of time back (aka, necro-ing is allowed). However, only the thread's owner can bump it, and [u]they must provide brand new chapters/content in that post[/u]. Otherwise, it will be locked.[/quote][/size][/font][/color]

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