by Kim Wedlock
It was then that Eyila acted.
Propelled upwards by a phantom wind, she thrust her captor off of her back, held Aria close against her, whose big eyes peered around in a mix of terror and foolish fascination, and muttered a few alien words beneath her breath. In an instant, a rush of air expanded out around her in all directions, battering her pinned companions who could only turn their heads away, splintering bark, toppling their captors, waylaying airborne attackers and knocking down their would-be saviours.
For a brief and confused moment, time suspended and silence reigned. Then all eyes turned slowly upon the bronze figure and the awed child that clung to her.
It opened only the briefest opportunity, but her companions were the swiftest to take advantage of it. They seized their weapons in a flash and twisted towards the harpies, until her melodic voice rose into a sudden and powerful command.
Rathen growled, but he conceded after a moment, lowering his hands as the others dropped their weapons with equal hesitation. But while the harpies righted themselves and launched up out of harm's way, and the ditchlings jumped back to their muddy little feet, Aria wriggled free and charged off to the left.
Rathen made a quick dash to catch her. "Stay here."
"But they're--"
"They're fine. Listen to me: right now, we can't take sides."
"A bit sodding late for that," Anthis mumbled, but all ignored him.
Rathen returned Aria to the tribal's side and stepped forwards, positioning himself in the middle of the grove and directly between the two warring factions. The irony wasn't lost on him, but he had no patience for amusement. His expression was black, his eyes furious, and he cast equal scorn in both directions if just for the danger Aria had been put into.
Then, he turned decisively towards the ditchlings. "What are you doing here?"
"We ain't gonna let you get eaten!" It was Nug, of course, but now covered in so much camouflaging paint and mud as to be unrecognisable.
"They wanted to talk," Rathen replied impatiently.
"Oh, yeah, looked like it! And we're here to do the sweeping! Although I reckon we'll have a mighty hungerin' for a turkey dinner by the time we're finished!"
The harpies squawked in furore and raised their legs, baring their scything talons, and the ditchlings duly poised their weapons. Slingshots fired without warning; the harpies descended, and in a moment the battle was raging again. The glow of fire and a cheer of imminent victory went up near the rear of the ground assault.
Rathen's fury snapped. With a twist of his fingers, he unleashed his own waft of wind, extinguishing the sudden torch and flooring both sides again. "Enough!"
Each force retreated immediately to their defensive positions. Nug glared up at the harpy; the harpy glared down at him; Rathen glared at both. Petra noticed that the few on each side to brush their gaze over him withered back a step, and as she spared him a glance herself, she was quite relieved not to be its target.
"Why'd--"
"Quiet."
The antlered ditchling pursed his lips.
Rathen shook his head in exasperation. How had this happened? How had he managed to get embroiled in this? Caught between one faction of unintended allies and another of accidental enemies, and while both sides had just as much at stake, they were at each other's throats! And his! These two peoples who had just as much to fear from a force almost beyond mortal measures, a force even he was dogged by, even he dreaded. And that was discounting the Arana's involvement. Both of their homes were within this forest, and they, like countless others of their scattered kind, were at its mercy. And they were trying to kill each other.
"How," he asked helplessly, "how did all this start?!"
"They tried to kill us!" Nug declared viciously, jutting his jaw and his spear towards the huge raptorial figures.
"Why?" But he turned towards Nug. "What did you do?" He rolled his eyes at the collective offence, over-dramatised by a series of gasps, glances and agape mouths.
"What are you implyin'?"
"I'm implying that you are troublesome and are bound to have caused some mischief of another by your very namesake. So what did you do?"
"Well," Nug huffed, folding his arms and almost hitting another beside him in the head with his spear, "sorry to disappoint you, but we didn't. They stole from us, so we stole from them, then they tried to kill us for it."
"You stole our eggs!"
All eyes crashed onto the ditchlings in horror, but they merely straightened in defence.
"And you stole right out of our traps! We was just trying to survive!"
"You took their eggs?"
"Not until they stole meat right out of our traps four times."
"Liars!"
"No, you just ain't got any fingers to count on!"
"Stop." Rathen rubbed his temples. "From the beginning. With all this trouble, why don't you just move away from each other?"
"We will not leave our eyries," the harpy croaked intently. "We have been here beyond even your count; our dronn'vaen of ages followed the air currents to their strongest peaks. These are our ancestral lands."
"And we ain't going nowhere without the Lady!" Nug countered. "She and her sisters wandered onto your land for reasons we ain't been able to work out, but we're staying put as long as she does!"
"There is not enough hunting for the both of us!"
"And yet moving is apparently not an option." Rathen muttered cynically. "Why did you start stealing from one another?"
"It was our only choice."
"Was it?"
"Of course."
"The ditchlings are much smaller than you. I can't see how their arrival could empty the forests."
"They are small, but they are many."
He glanced over those gathered; they numbered about the same as those in the grove, and he suspected they'd all left with Nug. Given their devotion to their feud, it was likely that this was at least half of Wrenroot's population. "Not that many," he decided. "And if that truly were the case, I think one of you would have moved."
"What are you suggesting?"
"That you attacked them first, passive aggressively, by taking more than you needed so they would have to move on. And whether you realised it or not, you started to do the same in return. Then you went too far and stole from their nests. They attacked you to protect their young and you attacked back to defend yourselves."
The expected protest didn't come. Rathen nodded to himself. "I thought so. And when did the magic move in?"
"Not long after."
"And you concluded that the Lady was responsible. An act of defence, or something."
"She and her sisters move on their own whims, but many have taken a liking to the mice that follow them. It is the only explanation."
"No," he groaned, "it isn't--look, it doesn't matter. In the end you're both being selfish and hoarding against the other because you don't want to share, so much so that you're prepared to kill each other and turn a blind eye to the real danger! Salus--the 'sneaky ones' are chopping away at you from the edges, you're both aware of this! And if you keep up this feud you'll all be dead, and by the hands of an enemy you can't even see coming! You need to stop! The forests can feed you both if you stop your petty hoarding and only take what you need."
"No."
"Never."
"Can't you see you're being ridiculous?! All of this boils down to you being different from each other! Did you even try to co-exist before you started trying to push each other out?! Before you started killing each other?!"
"That ain't what you big 'uns do, though, is it?"
He sent the twig-crowned ditchling a flat look. "We are not a people to be emulated."
"Then what could you possibly suggest?" The harpy challenged.
"Talk. Adapt. Learn to live side by side."
"With them?!" At least their disdain was in agreement.
"Yes."
"It don't come so easy for you though, does it? We seen you kil
l each other just 'cause your hair or skin or eyes is a different colour! Or 'cause you talk funny! We ain't killed Dappy just 'cause she can't say her esses!"
"The mouse has a point."
"Fanks, missus."
Rathen raised a finger. "Which proves that you're smarter than us."
"That was never in question. But we have real differences--"
"Differences that won't stop the sun from rising." Unbidden, he glanced around at his companions. They stood in a half circle, closely packed and covering a watch over both sides of the dispute, available weapons in hand. Ready to raise the alarm or defend each other in an instant. He looked back towards his difficult audience. "Conflict can come from more than just looking different. Beliefs can drive rifts between people who look exactly the same. But even that--"
"Their Lady--"
"Is not responsible! She isn't re--"
"Daddy."
At the firm whisper, he looked around towards Aria. She was shaking her head. A glance towards the others found both Anthis and Petra looking at him with equal concern.
"There is something in that tree," she told him quietly. "I'm sure of it."
The intensity of the others' stares suggested that they felt the same. Which irritated him. And, on Aria's part, surprised him. But he conceded if just to spare himself the trouble.
With a breath to settle his frustrations, he returned to the woodland court and spoke as calmly as he could. "All right. There is no divine presence at work here. The Lady isn't responsible for the magic, nor is she favouring one side or forcing you to attack each other. It's just the two of you bickering over exclusive rights to abundant space and food. And there have been deaths on both sides because of it."
"Not," the nameless harpy hissed, "by our hands alone."
"That ain't these guys' doing. They're hunted just like we are. All of us here are in the same ruddy hole."
The burning glare she channelled barely wavered despite a spark of admission flickering somewhere beneath her enmity. "...Yes," she said at last, "we have witnessed. This much, at least, appears to be true after all. But why are we being targeted? You little mice are a nuisance to them, and the rest of you are impulsive and aggressive and kill one another for reasons elusive to a rational mind. We, however, have always kept out of your way."
"Until, I suspect, your feud expanded into chasing each other into striking distance of our villages. My point is that if you stopped your petty squabbling--"
"Thought he was gonna say 'squawking'."
"--Then you could focus your efforts onto protecting yourself from serious threats."
Finally, silence. But was it consideration or scepticism?
Slowly, the ditchlings began muttering, while the harpies chattered on the other side. But the prime's hawk eyes only narrowed. "You speak fine words, white one," she declared, her measured tone seizing such attention that even the ditchlings paused to listen. "You cannot persuade them to leave us alone? Or yourselves?"
"They would sooner throw knives into our eyes, I think," he replied bitterly.
"Interesting. You seek to solve our problems and yet you are unable to solve your own. Tell me why I should not gouge out your eyes myself."
"Because--"
"Because theirs is a complicated culture, Mayi'i." Eyila stepped forwards, stifling Rathen's increasing exasperation, and stopped beside him to address the single harpy perched high in the oldest tree. But rather than meeting her with the same disdain she had Rathen, she regarded the tribal with a strange curiosity. And she listened, straightening, waiting for her to continue. "Among these five there are conflicting opinions on faith, and always at least two on the course of action in any single situation. And yet, despite their differences of spirit, they co-exist. It is true that a crowd is harder to convince than a single soul, but these five individuals of so confused a people live by their words."
Her head twitched, cocking to one side, and she leaned a little closer as her curiosity rose closer to the surface. "And why are you among them, little Ayavei? To offer direction to the hurricane?"
"I am with them because they wish me to be."
"You are a slave?"
While the others baulked at the suggestion, Eyila lightly shook her head. "I give them my presence willingly. My tribe was killed by the earthen two moons ago, and despite their own tasks and trials, they would not leave me where I, too, would be hunted down or destroyed by grief. So they took me with them."
"Because they could not find their way out of the desert without you."
"They are resourceful. They would have managed. And though I can turn around and leave at any time, should I wish, I do not. I count each of them among my friends."
"Your tribe was murdered."
The others cringed. Again, Eyila responded calmly. "Yes. It is also true that they are all I have, but that does not change how I feel. And I want to see them succeed with their ambitious task, and keep them safe - and I want to be there when they keep their promise to remove the magic from my people's sacred ground."
"And Aya'u approves of your association?"
"She trusts my decisions."
She examined the tribal for a long moment. Then she straightened and gently flexed her wings. "She does." Her yellow gaze turned thoughtfully onto the humans beside her, then back onto the tribal. Then fell decisively upon the ditchlings, who observed the proceedings with guarded stances and open looks of mistrust. When they saw her attention descend upon them, they straightened boldly and readied their weapons. But she did not react. "What do you make of this?"
Nug's spear slowly lowered, and he began to consider the humans. He sighed deeply, pursed his lips, and thought for a long, hard moment. Finally, he nodded. "They're complicated, all right. My head hurts from trying to keep up. But that's hoomans, I reckon, and from time to time they do spout some sense, like what that metal lady did. 'Course her voice was a bit distractin'. But, when the squirrel is skinned, we ain't really getting anywhere killing each other, are we? Least not while them sneaks is skittering after us. And they're harder to see coming than giant flying turkeys. I know who the bigger problem is - and I have to say, it would be nice to be able to eat that squirrel without having to try and bend one eye cloudward while the other 'un's spying out the bones."
"...It sounds like they're willing to try if you are."
But the harpy squawked in disagreement. "I never said we were willing to try."
Rathen groaned in despair, dropping his face into his hands.
"May I make a suggestion?" Eyila asked, to which the harpy inclined her head. But Nug interrupted before she could begin.
"Wait wait wait wait wait," he cried, stomping forwards. "Hang on one arse-scratching minute. She's too chummy with the turkeys - we don't trust her. What if she's trying to manipulate the situation to their bennyfit?"
"Nug," Aria spoke up, "she's with us. You can trust her."
"Can we?"
"Yes. You can." She stepped forwards despite Petra's warning for her to stay back, and approached the dirty ditchling with an appeasing smile, which she cast in the direction of the harpies, too, for good measure. "You trust me, and I trust her, so you should trust her. She's never done anything but good. She healed my daddy when he needed it, and Garon, and Anthis - she's special. She can do things with her magic that even my daddy can't. You shouldn't disrespect her." She looked to Eyila and gave her an encouraging smile, then back towards Nug. He'd fallen tightly quiet, but by the purse of his lips and fold of his arms, it seemed he was prepared, albeit grudgingly, to listen.
Eyila nodded the girl her thanks, then bowed her acknowledgement to Nug. He smiled and mirrored it clumsily.
"Matters like these aren't simple," she declared, turning to address the gathering. "As far as I've learned, to make it work, you need to make a compromise. Inconvenience each other and make common ground."
"No," Nug stated flatly. "That is a stupid idea."
"Actually," Rathen interjected despi
te his thinning sanity, "as unorthodox a take on 'compromise' as that is, it makes sense. Make an ultimately minor change to the way you live that will create a common problem and force you to co-operate. In co-operating, a trust or understanding will form. You claim that hunting is the issue. What about a limit on the number of kills?"
"Ooh! Yeah, great idea!" The brief enthusiasm in his giant eyes turned into a spiteful glint. "One rabbit each."
"That's not enough!" The harpy erupted.
"You're just greedy!"
"Harpies are much bigger than you..." Rathen pointed out.
The harpy released a sudden, mirthful trill. "No. One rabbit will be fine. One rabbit, and half a ditchling!"
"Arkhamas!"
"All right!" Rathen bellowed. "Forget hunting. What about territory? Boundaries? Give up part of your eyries and part of the Lady's range?"
She flared. "This is our ancestral ground! Would you accept us, or them, or even the Ayavei, moving across your boundaries and forcing you to leave half of your buildings behind?"
Rathen rubbed his forehead in a bid to dissuade the hammering of tension. "Yes," he sighed in defeat, "okay, I admit many people would have a problem with that."
"Perhaps if their Lady was removed--"
"You can't make her go nowhere! She goes where she wants, no force in the ground or the sky can stop her!"
"Neither can any force change the wind!"
"Blow the wind out of your backside!"
"Hunting ground, then," Eyila jumped in. "If you have lived here for so long, then you know where the richest areas are - divide them up."
"A wise idea. They can take the southern acres - it's closer to their holes anyway."
Now Nug flared. "The southern acres?! You know that's empty! Hoomans are too close to it! There's nothing in there but sparrows and caterpillars!"
She trilled derisively again. "You only have small bellies!"
"I appreciate the enthusiasm," Eyila said carefully, "but I didn't mean try to inconvenience each other."
"Well what do you really expect us to do, missus? Live in their nests with 'em? Roast our meat side by side? Cuddle up on biting nights?"
