OF LOVE AND LOSS
Chapter 1 of Territories
The Jotunhel glided lazily above the desert. Far below it, a hot desert breeze sprung up, causing grains of coarse sand to sting the hides of the creatures living among sandstone cliffs and caves.
Narrowing its four eyes, the wyvern raked its gaze over the dunes, searching for…something. A low hum sounded as it spotted its target: a large, dune-colored bipedal creature covered in small spikes to deter attackers.
Not that any creature would attack it, of course. The spiked creature was a Kendyll, known for its large teeth, ridged back, and rudder-like tail. Only the bravest––or the dumbest––of creatures went after Kendylls.
The corner of the Jotunhel’s mouth tugged upward in a brief but gruesome approximation of a smile.
It did not care what happened after. It cared not about the stars wheeling above in their everlasting dance across the cold sky, not about even the agony of death.
And it certainly didn’t care that somewhere, deep inside it, the cold, dark fire of revenge choked its last shred of hope for a brighter, happier future.
The Jotunhel soared alone on scraps of wind, reveling in the moment as it remembered its family, its past, its being.
For a moment, as it hung in the sky, suspended by its sorrows and griefs and memories, happiness seemed tangible––then it tucked its wings and dove.
As the beast fell from the sky, it released an ear-splitting screech, colored throughout with the sheer weight of its misery and madness. It plummeted through the air like a stone, its cry a belated warning to its foes and a clarion call to the end.
Fifty feet above the ground, the creature snapped open its wings. The wind caught the creature and broke its fall, then threatened to snap its wings should it tempt fate any longer.
For an ephemeral moment, the creature seemed to float. Then it closed its wings, and resumed its descent––for even in its insanity, it knew the wind was stronger and more volatile than it could ever understand. And yet, the wind almost seemed…familiar.
The fierce pull of the wind on its feathers. The faint scent of sagebrush in the air. A memory, one from its hatchling days.
Their mother stood on the edge of a cliff, tail lashing the rocks. They cowered before her, wings held tight against their body and head bowed.
Her piercing gaze bore straight through them. “What were you doing??! Flying in autumn, and at night, no less!”
They wondered if it were possible to melt into the ground at will. Taking a deep breath, they began, “I was just practicing, Mum. I thought–I thought I could handle it."
A heartbeat of silence passed between them, and they wondered if she wouldn’t have one of her “eruptions” this time.
Apparently not, they thought. Their mother’s pupils narrowed to mere slits, and she growled, “What. Were. You. Doing?”
They got the feeling that if they lied, their mother would arrange for them to serve as a Kendyll’s personal butler until they learned their lesson. Now THAT was terrifying.
If they told the truth, they hoped that they could a) avoid that fate and b) maybe, just MAYBE, Mum would let them continue flying in autumn.
They took a deep breath, “During the day, the air is super hot. Sometimes, after it rains nearby, the air feels thick, like you’re trying to swim through a sky of slime…even though you’re flying. Every breath you take seems to scorch your lungs, and your throat gets so dry you can hardly swallow.”
Their mother regarded them impassively. “Continue.”
“Us Jotunhel are built to withstand extreme cold, not extreme heat. Autumn nights are wonderfully cool, and I figured it would be better to practice when I don’t have to fight for breath.”
*** (above is a WIP) ***
and that the wind could turn from friend to foe in an instant.
Not even the wind could prevent what happened next, however.
The beast dropped from the sky––and crashed onto the Kendyll’s back, shrieking as it did so. It dug its claws into the tough hide of the Kendyll, prompting a pained growl from the spiked predator.
Changing tactics, the wyvern sunk its wing-claws into the creature’s scales, then used its newfound purchase to bite down on the Kendyll’s neck.
Agonized and shocked, the Kendyll stumbled, threatening to crush its attacker should it trip.
The two creatures realized that at the same time. Roaring, the Kendyll ran towards a sandstone cliff, its intentions clear.
Removing all of its claws from the Kendyll’s armored hide, the wyvern instead embedded its wing-claws in its spiked neck.
With the majority of its weight anchored to the right of the Kendyll, the winged creature slashed at its foe’s eyes with its hind talons.
One talon left a scratch beside the Kendyll’s eye, while the other talon would have raked its eye––if not for the creature’s eyelid, which snapped shut before the hit landed. Instead, the wyvern's claw was left to trace a bloody line across the Kendyll's eyelid.
Frenzied by its thirst for revenge, the winged beast gouged out a chunk of the Kendyll’s shoulder with its talons.
Even if the Jotunhel had succeeded in partially blinding the Kendyll, there was no stopping the feral terror as it slammed its left side into a pillar of ochre rock. As its side collided with the rock, the attacker was smashed into the column.
Slightly stunned from the impact, the Kendyll shook its head. The wyvern had lost its purchase on the creature’s back upon collision, but still it clung to the creature, desperate to kill it.
Taking advantage of the wyvern’s state, the Kendyll snatched a wing in its maw, causing the winged beast to loose an unearthly shriek. An audible snap rang out as the Kendyll tossed the winged beast into the air with a jerk of its head.
Landing in a heap on the ground, its left wing crumpling beneath it, the avian beast fixed a malicious glare on its foe with all four of its eyes. Despite its agony, it heaved itself off the ground and ran towards the Kendyll, throwing itself at the creature’s broad, spiked back. It fell short and instead bit down on the creature’s hind leg.
Snarling, the Kendyll lifted its foot and stomped, dislodging the beast. A sickening snap announced the breaking of its other wing as it was caught beneath the massive, clawed foot. Limp with exhaustion and pain, the beast did not even cry out.
The Kendyll seized the beast’s neck in its jaw, and carried it up through a tunnel and onto a sandstone platform jutting out from the rock formation it called home. It slowed its pace as it neared the edge of the platform, and prepared to snap the beast’s neck, then let it fall.
How fitting it will be for a creature of the sky to die falling from it, it thought.
***
As the Kendyll prepared to deliver the fatal blow, a small black-and-green creature appeared from the darkness—and flew shrieking at the larger creature’s face. Its high-pitched screech awoke any creatures still asleep.
Before the Kendyll could do anything, the small creature slashed the large carnivore’s hide with its tail, then disappeared into the night.
Caught off guard by the little creature, the Kendyll stood baffled as its foe hung from its jaws.
Turning its massive head slowly, its shrewd eyes squinted, trying to spot the tiny but bold creature that attacked it.
As the Kendyll searched the sky with its eyes, the diminutive creature soared towards it and carried out the same style of attack as before.
They quickly fell into a pattern: the tiny, flying creature would dive in and out of the darkness, only to land a single hit with each pass, harrowing the large, bulky Kendyll whose deadly mass worked to prevent it from turning quickly enough to kill or injure its attacker.
While it wasn’t doing much damage, the small critter had become a nuisance. Opening its large mouth, the Kendyll dropped the half-dead Jotunhel off the cliff, roaring a challenge to the empty sky.
Come and get me, the roar seemed to say as it resounded throughout the desert.
As the small creature glided on leathery wings for another pass, the whoosh of air beneath its wings betrayed it. Growling, the Kendyll whipped its head around to snap at the creature’s tail. The tiny attacker’s petiteness saved it as it corkscrewed through the air to evade the blow, escaping unharmed with a surprised yelp.
Distracted by the little creature’s attacks, the Kendyll failed to notice the low whoosh of air as a massive, feathered creature skimmed the dunes, its rippling shadow undulating beneath it.
Unlike the ankle-biting creature that currently plagued the Kendyll, this creature’s wings were streamlined for silence.
In a single, fluid motion, the low-flying creature snatched the falling Jotunhel out of the air. Doing so cost it dearly as the extra weight pulled it down, threatening them with a crash. With a life on the line, stealth went out the window in a moment.
Thunderous whooshes of wind battered the dunes as the bird beat its huge, dark wings against the air, managing to gain enough lift to remain aloft. As it did so, the tip of a feather brushed the side of a dune, a reminder of how close they’d come to colliding with the ground.
Precious seconds slipped away as the monstrous bird-creature pulled in its wings and angled itself, weaving through a dangerous labyrinth of tree-trunks with razor-sharp precision.
After all, any mistake on its part could cost not one, but two lives.
***
At last, they arrived. Sweeping its wings in front of it, the bird hovered just off the ground. As gently as it could, it deposited the Jotunhel on the ground. Immediately, dozens of curious faces, all different in their stages of life, poked out from where they’d been sleeping. A single heartbeat of silence passed, then the pack exploded into chatter.
The mob of intrigued pack-members crowded around the injured Jotunhel, a unified mass of bustling faces in their approach.
“EVERYBODY, OUT OF THE WAY!” The sea of creatures parted as the feathery creature from before—now recognizable as an Aolenus—used its wings to clear a path through the crowd. A small female human hurried through the temporarily-cleared space towards the injured Jotunhel. A fresh wave of pain surged through the alien wyvern, and everything went dark for them as they finally lost consciousness.
***
“What were you two thinking?! Going off to rescue someone in the middle of the night without asking my permission––from enemy territory, no less!”
Chagrined, Midnight lowered her head. To her surprise, the Vin’rou beside her did the same. Submissiveness was not a trait the Vin’rou species was known for, and ? was no exception.
Nightshade’s amethyst eyes glittered with a fury that neither the Aolenus nor the Vin’rou had ever seen as her seven tails swept from side to side. Even the tufts of her fluffy mane (which normally lay flat on her neck) stood on end.
? thought it looked twice as fluffy as usual, but she resisted the urge to touch it. Few Saikarie remained in Sonaria, but those who did had made it quite clear that touching one’s mane without their consent was taboo.
“Did you know anything about Direwolf’s plans?”
“Nope.”
“We did not. If so, we would have informed you.” Midnight’s reply was much more eloquent than the Vin’rou’s.
Nightshade took a deep breath, doing her best to recollect herself into the calm, wise leader everyone knew. She sat, and asked the Aolenus and the Vin’rou before her, “How did you know that Direwolf was in need of help?”
***
“Ow.” That was how Direwolf (quite eloquently) articulated their pain upon waking.
Now that the adrenaline had worn off, everything hurt. As in everything. Muscles they didn’t even know they had ached and panged. The slightest movement threatened them with cramps.
