The girl froze, locked in wide-eyed fear while the feathery mound began to unfurl. Her eyes trailed from the tip of each wing stretching the width of the alley. Standing at full height, it towered above her head with a piercing gaze she could not turn away from.
Her mouth opened at the underside of a taloned hand striking head-on. In place of screams came gurgles. Jewelry flung from her flailing hands. It clinked to a stop next to a clawed foot. It seemed to pause before a curled toe flicked the object away. The body still twitched, but that was the extent of life. Satisfied, the White Wing returned to its rooftop perch.
Unaware, people continued to collect around merchant tables strategically placed around Lexington’s Town Square. On clear days, one could neatly spy merchants selling together according to category. Those with jewelry stayed in the center. Cooking ware, clothing, and all else were displayed on either sides of the street in a fashion that kept the line of buyers constantly moving. Guards dressed in black kept a lookout, especially around the jewelry and weapon areas.
Yet the weather this day made it difficult to catch snatching fingers. Instead, they turned their attention to a highly respectable group of wealth. The sound of loose coin jiggling inside large purses suggested tighter ranks to help sweep the area for potential pick-pockets. What they could not see, however, were the foreboding shapes of White Wings collecting along the rooftops surrounding market.
A coin hit the ground in a series of sharp pings over cobblestone road, tuning the harpies’ sense of direction. With limited vision in the fog, they relied heavily on sound to pick out their next set of targets. Murmurs from the crowd suggested a tightly packed group, setting one harpy into motion.
Using sound to determine the closeness of potential obstacles, the harpy made a swift dive. Extended claws closed quickly around an unlucky person before pulling up.
There came a scream of panic, cut short by the slam of body crashing into a merchant cart. People scattered, unsure of why or how it happened. More screams followed as a slew of Wings dived into the crowd. While chirps and shrill whistles signaled their whereabouts to avoid collisions in midair, their cries also added as a distraction. Panic-driven, people were clueless as to where to run. Suddenly, those standing next to one other were taken. Children found themselves parentless. Bodies seemed to fly from nowhere, while the constant sound of flapping and shrill whistles quickly revealed the type of enemy.
“Harpies!” A guard shouted, drawing his weapon. “Everyone insi-ck!” A talon slash across the throat silenced the alarm.
Discarding the body, Rusha turned his attention to the sound of banding men. Vengeance lit his eyes with an eerie glow before plunging into the fray with a snarl.
A wing lash instantly dislodged a guard’s shoulder. His holler of agony was cut short when a talon ripped into his throat. Weapons clattered and were lost under the footfalls of regrouping men, though their efforts were futile against Rusha’s swift attack. In minutes, several bodies lay at his feet. The harpy’s claws tore through their lightweight armor and quickly dispatched several more groups.
Then Rusha lifted himself to the sky. He felt the wind of two others whip under him in flight. A shrill cry announced his descent, and he quickly closed the gap between himself and scrambling bystanders. Merchant stands were overturned in the ruckus. Goods scattered. Several people tripped, their heavy thuds tuning harpies to their whereabouts in the fog. Women stood in doorways, trying to find missing children. What they found instead was a rush of death that quickly answered their calls.
A rip of awning, followed by shattering beams, came crashing down over one of the store fronts. Having fallen through the rubble, a harpy screamed while clutching one of the beams sticking out of a wing. Not far away, a merchant breathed heavily in short-lived triumph. Brandishing a bow from his own stand, he had managed to bring the harpy down in a single shot. That however, caused a stirring of angered responses. In a single sweep, his body was whipped across the street by two harpies. Carrying him by the arms, they suddenly dove in separate directions, ripping his limbs apart.
For those who managed to escape the chaos in the street, dashing down alleyways proved far more dangerous. With fog blinding in their retreat, often times they found themselves crashing over crates, tools or even into walls when reaching a dead end. In their distress, they could not see the creatures closing in from behind.
For those who made it indoors, safety was but an illusion. As the harpies continued their attack throughout the city, Healers advanced from the hillside. Fanning out around the city walls, Chronicles signaled his people to begin fueling the earth with energy.
Sudden growth spurts triggered vines to crack open streets. Buildings shook with a tremendous rumble. Rooftops split and caved in. Large roots and vines took over sidewalks. They broke windows, nabbed up people, and crawled over structures until they were covered in greenery. Under the immense pressure, some of the second-story shops collapsed. Soon, people were forced not only to clear the streets, but the city itself.
Outside the city walls, fog loosely dusted the ground. The sky was lighter, and one could see their surroundings more clearly. As a wave of fleeing citizens emptied into the fields, they were picked off one by one by different colored Wings.
A Red Wing landed on all fours, tossing bits of dirt up in the process. Its talons glistened in the sparse sunlight directed through overhanging clouds. It was those same talons that the people watched in terror while it raised itself to full height. Dark, crimson wings spread in an elegant display of power and color – the color of blood!
People scattered in all directions, only to be swept up and flung through the air. Red mixed with White Wings cooperated in blurs of color darting across the landscape. Their silhouetted forms from overhead either drove people back into the city or sent them fleeing across the field. If lucky enough to survive a flying ordeal, humans soon encountered the ground-manipulating Healer. One such could only stare up at the earth closing in around him, his broken body unable to respond...if only to scream.
*****
Valor surveyed the land, listening for the distant rumble. A few dark strands mixed with blond curls loosely rapped along his raised hand shielding his eyes from the sun. He had just returned from a fishing routine, red-faced with wind-tossed ponytail needing attention, when he squinted in the direction of the sound.
Like distant thunder, it drew the attention of those unloading down the boardwalk. All eyes turned to their leader while momentarily resting their heavy burden of fresh fish.
Valor simply waved them on to continue working.
“Sounds like exploding rock,” one of the men said while dumping a pile of mackerel into a wooden crate.
“Whatever the case, it’s coming from the city.” Turning abruptly, Valor pointed out men to accompany him. “Saddle the horses. We ride to Lexington!”
Valor, atop a high-spirited stallion, led a small band of five along the road. As they closed distance between port and city, the rumblings grew more frequent. Nervously, the horses whinnied with flared nostrils taking in the smells of what was to come. A couple tried to bolt from the path. It took all the riders’ willpower just to keep them from dashing back through the trees that lined either side of the road. It was not until Lexington’s fields opened before them that they halted.
Even with the immense build-up of fog that eerily coated the city, they could still make out harpies of red and white diving down on fleeing individuals. The fog itself seemed to concentrate just within the city walls. Yet the sky above remained relatively clear.
A series of vibrations shook the earth, toppling buildings and parts of the protective border. This left the city open to another kind of attack. As Valor and his men watched, Healers cast their energies into the earth to raise vines of unthinkable proportions.
“Lord Valor?”
His mouth must have dropped at the devastation, and his first impulse was to run. If not for the others, he would have done just that.
&nb
sp; If they think I’m getting involved... He reined his black mount around to face them in a composed fashion.
“The people need to be warned at home!” he said. “Return to port! Send word to others as well!”
“What of yourself?”
A frown. “I ride to Central Valley Clan.”
“Alone?”
Valor whipped his horse toward the direction of Roland’s clan.
“Easier to see a group than one person! Now ride!”
A harsh kick to the stallion’s side started in a powerful rear. Clinging to some of the mane, it took all his strength to keep up the pretense of a hero while managing to stay in the saddle. As they sped off, Valor heaved a heavy sigh. The very thought of facing one of those creatures was enough to break a sweat upon his forehead.
The surrounding trees provided just enough coverage to charge through without much delay, as the underbrush was not as thick along the outskirts. That, at least, kept him within sight of the city, but off their playing field.
Now and then, he would steal a glance to check the position of harpy attacks between tree trunks whipping by. To his amazement, a few people made it past several waves of harpy dives. Now they leaned forward in a mad dash for the woods, hoping the trees provided safety.
They were still a ways off, but fear of being noticed pushed his horse harder. He could feel the tug of reigns pulling through his fingers in protest. With a wild toss of mane, his horse plowed through a tangle of bramble.
A scream came from overhead. Just as Valor peered up through the canopy, a burst of broken limbs and ripped foliage crashed down. The young man quickly leaned back to avoid a heavy branch swing overhead. The heavy-sounding thud was followed by another crash, something Valor had to pull hard on the reigns to avoid trampling.
The body of a person plunged through the treetops, the neck twisted around in a horrific way. While Valor’s stallion pranced around the lifeless form, Valor kept eyeing the heavily shadowed canopy for anything else.
If that came from up there, then... But there was no time to guess. He had seen the harpies throwing bodies from afar, but one this close meant he was not alone.
“Yah!” He kicked the horse into a thundering gallop, unable to feel twigs scratching his face as fright drove him closer to Central Valley Clan.
The trees ended abruptly, and he found himself on a long driveway in between a row of Crape Myrtles. He recognized it only briefly before the sound of breaking foliage from behind sent a chill through him. Leaning forward in his saddle, he only hoped he made it in time.
He never dared look back at a shrill screech. Beating wings confirmed just how close it was. Ahead, the gates to the clan drew closer.
At his approach, the gates opened. Several men darted out with heavy crossbows. One of them waved Valor onward, while the rest took aim. As the young man galloped past, the gates shut. Talons smacked against thick iron bars. With no roofing protecting the courtyard, Valor knew he had little time to get inside the main dwelling.
Those bowmen won’t last long! He urged his horse to the far center, where he was greeted by the heavily armored Roland. Unused to the metallic look of war replacing his normal apparel, Roland’s figure seemed out of place. How had he known someone was coming?
“So word reached you before I could,” Valor said while trying to throw some authority in his tone. The ordeal with the harpies had left him shaken, and he gripped the reigns tighter to keep it from showing.
“More like screeches than words. You’re going to need armor.” He motioned for the young man to follow him inside. “Hurry! They won’t stay at the gates for long. And leave the horse. Might distract them a bit longer.”
“You realize those men are dead, right? The ones you just sent?”
“Times such as these calls for such acts. They understood the risks. We all do.”
Even as he spoke, a group of solders moved from around the side of the building. The clank of their heavy armor gave a surreal feeling to the usual quiet layout of the place. As Valor dismounted, one of the men took his horse by the reigns and quickly led it elsewhere.
The Elite home was just as grand on the inside as it was on the outside. It was a striking display for first-timers with its three-story white stone base set between two of the castle’s crenellated circular towers. Black marble oriel windows topped off the centrally located turret and adjoining library chamber. Even from below, one could see some of the room’s collection gathered in the windows.
Many times had Valor visited, though nothing compared to the opening atrium. The ceiling was a mix of stained glass panels, complete with an elaborate spiraling staircase leading up to the second floor balcony. Visitors were encouraged to wander and often were entertained in this area, as Valor fondly remembered. It was the perfect space, and only area used, as many of the private apartments occupying the rest of the floors were shut off to the public.
Now, as Valor followed Roland into a back room, he wondered if such evenings would ever return.
“You should have seen those things attacking the city.” Valor quickly described its condition while eyeing several suits of armor already waiting on tables. Nearby, servants stood ready to secure them.
“Black Wings, I have seen,” Roland said grimly. “Huge monsters, but normally travel alone. These? They’re going about it with purpose.”
“Where’s the Lady Pena?” Valor allowed the servants to start strapping on pieces of armor.
“Safe. There’s a central room upstairs I built in case Black Wings ever returned.”
“But will it hold up against a mass of these?”
Roland let out a heavy sigh. “I will be guarding the entrance to it if they do come in, as will you.”
“Flattered.” Valor’s insides jerked to the tug of leather straps securing sheets of metal around him.
A clank of armor echoed from down the hall. Heavy footfalls quickly reached the room, and one of his men entered.
“They’re in the courtyard, aren’t they?” Roland said before the guard could get out a word. He glanced to Valor. “Let’s make our way up.”
The sound of glass breaking, followed by piercing screams was enough to make Valor jump out of his skin. With the last of his armor in place, he followed Roland with heavy spirit and dragging feet, wondering all the while how to slip away.
CHAPTER 2
Even before their ship pulled into port, Blackavar and crew knew something was wrong. All along the docks people lined up in desperate need to leave. A quick glance around confirmed the vacancies of ships already at sea. Even as they sailed in, grim expressions of those leaving confirmed the bad news.
The war had started.
The Guild... Blackavar watched the people along the docks. Crying children clung to their parents while lines were thrown out from the ship to waiting men. Husbands tried to console wives. Many contained multiple marks either on the face or arms, bloodied and badly bruised. They were the lucky ones, he reasoned, and searched the remaining sea of faces in hopes of finding someone he knew from the guild, someone who would prove they had escaped.
There were none.
When the vessel was secured and walkway attached, Blackavar was one of the first off, along with his merchants. With their belongings still left at the town of Trully, they instead brought with them the hope to save their comrades from whatever these people had seen.
Distant rumblings unnerved everyone. The thief watched as the people tried to pack themselves together, though it was unlikely they would fit an entire town onto one ship. Fighting soon broke out.
“Leave it.” Blackavar motioned for his men to follow. They could hear the stories all around. People spoke of “winged creatures” that attacked from above.
“Thrown clear across the rooftops!” one man said. His right arm was in a make-shift sling, and by the looks of his other Blackavar guessed it was the man himself who had been thrown.
A woman sitting on the ground was crying. “They came
out of nowhere!” she said. “My children! My babies! All gone!”
“What we ta-do, Blackavar?” one of his merchants said. “If these ar’ true, ain’t we wasting time? We’d fair no betta’ than these.”
Blackavar paused to consider. The Thieves Guild was mainly underground, so with the stories mostly about creatures that flew, there was a chance the guild and its members were untouched.
Providing they stay underground, he thought with worry etched across his brow. “Ye don’t have to come, But I for one have to see for meself if those at the guild need aid.”
“Then we’re coming with you.”
A scream alarmed the group in time to witness a few raggedy stragglers limp quickly down the main road.
“Take cover!” A man wildly waved his arms. “They’re coming!”
A rush of wings, and then the man was scooped up as if weightless. As Blackavar and others watched, the White Wing cleared the rooftops of waterfront shops and slung him out over the harbor.
“Hell, if ye are!” Blackavar motioned the group toward the closest building. “Get inside!”
“What of you?”
“I’ll count me blessings! Now get!”
He did not wait for an excuse to come with them. Instead, he turned and headed for the closest group of trees he could find – near the main road where several more creatures appeared. From behind, he could hear screams of those trying to flee the ship, even leaping into the water. Sounds of ripping sails confirmed the vessel would not be departing anytime soon.
A flash of white from the corner of his eye, and he slid, feet first, under a harpy’s dive. Talons just barely grazed his shoulder, then he was up and running again. Cobblestone street seemed to echo his pounding footfalls. It was only a matter of time before it came back.
They ain’t dumb – not with the way Keith described ‘em!
With the knowledge that his small band of merchants were safe for the time being, Blackavar raced down the street. Around him, people scattered for cover, their screams drawing the creatures after them. He saw one alight on the pointed rooftop of a tutor-styled building. The mix of stone and wooden homes lined either side of the street, convenient for those who lived around the port.
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