Healer

by Bonnie Watson

  Blackavar made a dive between two homes. From behind, a harpy let out a shrill whistle. As the thief charged through the short alley, he could hear the beat of wings. Overhead, claws clipped along shingles. A loose one fell across his path. He was nearing the end when he suddenly skidded to a halt. Lexington’s port was not a cluster of tightly knit buildings like the city. Rows of homes spread out, allowing open sunlit streets. Exposing himself too early would prove fatal.

  Anticipating their next move paid off, as not one but two harpies crossed paths where he would have stepped. Had he not stopped, their talons would have scored a victory.

  With a clear shot, Blackavar rushed the woods. He could have reached out and touched the foliage, but time seemed to crawl. A White Wing’s feathers grazed the cobblestone street in its descent, claws outstretched to dig into its victim.

  He felt the first claw at his back when the harpy was abruptly shoved aside by a thunderous uprooting vine. The shockwave from it forced the thief stumbling over himself, his various pouch contents jingling along his belt. A set of daggers clinked over stone until he came to rest. He scrambled backwards on his rump. The blessing of concealing underbrush was a relief. At least he was where he wanted. All the while, vines continued to rise around the edge of the woods where had been mere moments ago.

  Deprived of their target, the remaining harpies soon fled with looks of bewilderment across their feathered faces.

  “Thought you might need a little aid,” someone said.

  A quick glance behind received a friendly nod before the Master Thief got to his feet and brushed off his vest.

  The stranger was not alone. Others soon made their presence known behind trees. Yet something was amiss. As Blackavar squinted to pinpoint exactly what the difference might be, he soon realized the ears of the stranger matched those of the Healer he had left back in Trully.

  “Ain’t human, are ye?” His comment received a grin.

  “Blackavar, is it?” The chestnut-haired male stepped closer. “My grandson sent word of events to follow.” He spread his arms and took a bow, an autumn colored outfit adorned in the trimmings of light-scaled armor. “I am Windchester.”

  “So ye are the help Wisdom mentioned?”

  “Indeed, though I must admit it was only a matter of time before it happened.” A smirk as distant shrieks came from port, followed by the rumblings of vines breaking through earth. “I think they’ve just met the rest of my kind.”

  “Aye, good timing,” Blackavar said. “But ain’t over yet. I need to reach the city.”

  Windchester just shook his head. “Alone? You won’t stand a chance. We’ve barely enough time to intercept what’s left of it.”

  “And what’s left of it is mainly underground!” Blackavar narrowed his eyes. “Those are me people still inside that guild!”

  “I could take him!” a familiar voice said, and the couple peered up through the trees to where a White Wing perched. Most of his body was hidden behind the thick leaves, but as soon as he cleared the branch Blackavar recognized him.

  “Well met,” he acknowledged Chanté, “but ye might be difficult to tell apart from the rest of ye kind.”

  “Well, that’s why I stayed,” the harpy said. “I was hoping I could catch my father and try to convince him otherwise.”

  Ha! What with the lies Chronicles has filled everyone’s head with, a thought came to the three. He wouldn’t listen!

  A badger waddled over to Windchester’s side. After a moment’s hesitation, a silvery glow expanded upward until it took a different form, that of a pudgy Healer. One hip slightly dipped in a limp when he stepped from its core, and the light dissipated.

  “Better not to get involved,” he huffed, turning one silver eye to the thief. The other, as Blackavar noted, was completely white. “Then again, this fight involves everyone.”

  “Are we all here?” Windchester said.

  “Aye. Others just got back. Port’s clear...for the time being.”

  “Good. Blackavar, meet Calycanthus. He’ll be helping with the city.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Blackavar crossed his arms. “People ain’t sitting ‘round waitin’ for rescue.”

  Calycanthus glanced up to Chanté, then back at the thief. “The Lo-ans’rel have upset the foundation surrounding Lexington. If you’re going in, you’ll need us to hold them off so you don’t get buried once you’re inside. Chanté will take you.” Then, to the harpy, “But make it look convincing! Remember, you’re playing both sides of this game.”

  It was not long before Blackavar and Chanté peered from the trees that encircled the city. It was still a ways off, allowing them to safely view the destructive force of Nature. The thief nervously eyed both kinds of harpies swarming the sky – red mixed with white darting in and out of fog-filled city. It was not the most thrilling scene, as he wondered how he could have managed without assistance. Beside him, the young Wing watched with vigor.

  The thief chuckled half-heartedly “Ye can’t wait to fly out there, can ye? Gonna be strange to see ye bringing a human from the trees.”

  “Not unless you run out first. Act like I’m chasing you. Give you some time to prepare for your first flight.”

  “Um. Right. At the signal, then.”

  They waited. Further down, Windchester’s party stalked the other Lo-ans’rel tapping into Nature’s energies.

  “As soon as they turn their attention from the buildings, start running,” Chanté said.

  “Just don’t yank the sense outta’ me! Gotta’ have me wits when I get there.”

  Chanté laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

  Blackavar saw one of the Healers look back at the forest.

  Do they know? He wanted to ask when a rumble of uprooting ground shook the earth where the rest stood. Moments later, Windchester led his group out to meet their kind in battle.

  At the same time, the thief darted out onto open field. Legs pumped harder, closing distance to the city. Ahead, the sky was dotted with white and red – colors of death should this fail. Hurry up, ye bird!

  Blackavar dared not look behind to see if the fledgling was even following. The thought of careening through the air was bad enough, let alone what he might find when he reached the guild.

  A swoosh of wings and the thief was airborne, though not the way he had imagined. Almost instantly, the harpy’s claws dug into his shoulders.

  “The talons!” He glanced up to view an underside packed with white feathering all the way down to the privates. A sting of panic nearly made him choke. It’s not Chanté!

  In a fierce grip, the harpy jerked into a climb. Clouds whipped by the higher they went until at last its wings spread into a silent hover. A glance below barely revealed the city before he heard a chuckle.

  “Enjoy the view,” it hissed. In a spine-chilling cry, it let go.

  Blackavar’s holler was lost in the wind whipping past. He tore through a haze of small clouds to a view of the city and other harpies. The top of a church steeple seemed to rise up, and Blackavar closed his eyes and braced himself for impalement.

  “Gottcha!” Chanté sailed in to the rescue, swinging the thief from harm’s way. His talons digging into the thief’s already bleeding shoulders mattered little, only that he had been spared a terrifying death.

  “Call that gentle?!” Blackavar finally found his voice as the two glided down in between leftover buildings. “Can you see in this?” He could barely make out where they were headed in the thick fog.

  “Not really!” Chanté dodged a towering tangle of vines that wrapped around a building. Their feet literally ran its length at such close proximity until the young Wing could drop down into what Blackavar assumed was an alley. A wing scraped a rooftop, causing a yelp. Off balance, both hit the ground hard. Dirt and pebbles flecked off surrounding buildings, some just single walls leaning against one another.

  Releasing the thief, Chanté tended to his sore wing while Blackavar rubbed his achin
g shoulders. There was not much he could do for the bleeding. His only concern was his people.

  Both breathed heavily as they listened to war cries and screams of those still trapped within the city. All around lay in complete shambles. Furniture lay crushed under stone and wooden beams. In some places where the fog thinned, Blackavar caught sight of a twisted body jutting out from under a brick edifice.

  “Need...to reach...guild.” Blackavar stumbled over to a cracked sidewall and emptied his stomach.

  “You all right?” Chanté noticed how the thief kept a hand against the buildings to steady himself.

  Blackavar wiped his mouth. After a moment, he checked the way they had come in with a faint smile. “I know me way around.”

  *****

  Even before Shy reached the city, he could smell its destruction. As a bird flying in from Lexington’s port, the wind carried scents of his kind mixed with White Wings – and blood. The air was heavy with the scent of human blood, so much that Shy nearly gagged.

  Chronicles couldn’t wait to kill! He alighted on one of the rooftops near the shipyard to allow time for his stomach to calm. Below, he watched the behavior of humans. It seemed quiet here, though there were signs they had not been alone.

  Ripped sails of a nearby ship confirmed that harpies had surely been and gone. Now people scrambled to repair the damaged material so they could set sail once again. Shy did not blame them. When his eye caught sight of uprooted vines and churned earth, he cocked his head in wonder. Did Chronicles come here?

  In response to this thought, Katherine sent him a mental message from within the traveling necklace.

  Why leave so suddenly?

  Guess he wanted the city first. Shy lifted into flight again, angling his rustic-red tail feathers to turn his hawk form northwest. No one payed any heed to the bird from below, as hawks were common enough along the coastlines. Plus Shy had the luxury of enduring higher altitudes as a hawk versus other bird types. He used it now to scale above cloud level to check on drifting smells and sights from afar. The smells of death grew stronger.

  Do you think Chronicles will know we’re here? Katherine thought.

  Shy checked the wind, which had shifted directions toward sea.

  Hope not. Just ahead, his ears picked up the sounds of war. He descended to tree level, thinking a quick dive might be necessary to keep out of sight.

  Just within city limits, a sudden hint of chaotic energy triggered an inner growl.

  What’s wrong? Glory this time. Katherine must have been reporting everything she felt from him. She did not have to describe the land’s destruction, as the traveling crystal always portrayed an open window to those within so they could see. It was not easy to miss torn up ground surrounding Lexington’s walls. Downed trees cut great gaps into the wooded areas. Rather than wait, Shy dived through one of these gaps.

  Were we seen? Glory said.

  Not yet. Privately to Katherine, he thought, Tell her not to worry. I’ll see her safely to her father’s place.

  But what did you sense?

  The same presence that took my memories...and killed Twilight!

  You mean...that thing?

  It’s here. Somewhere. I feel it.

  Go back! Katherine begged. Shy, this isn’t worth it! Glory will be safer with us than at her home. Didn’t you see the city? Chronicles will have destroyed it just as easily!

  What of that fog? Shy cringed at the amount that mysteriously covered only the city. That’s not of Chronicles’ doing. The horn is dealing a hand in this war! Why else would it be here?

  A series of whistles and shrieks from nearing harpies ceased conversation. Immediately taking up roost in the surrounding foliage, Shy waited while several Red Wings shot through the trees just overhead. The sound of crunching leaves and limbs breaking, followed by howling pain, suggested they were dragging victims with them.

  Where did you say again? Shy thought to Glory.

  It’s just west of the city. There should be a road. It’s the only one that leads to Central Valley Clan.

  A snap of branch next to him, and Shy barely at time to move out the way before falling debris landed on his perch.

  Wish I could say a road might be safer! Shy flew higher into the canopy. Directly to their right, war raged around the city. How far?

  Not...very. Glory hesitated. Even without thinking it, Shy knew her concern.

  The trees ended abruptly, as a south-bound road cut through them, then forked a little ways west. Having no other way but to openly fly out, Shy glided down to the roadside and shifted to his true self. Caught out in the open, he knew, would be dangerous. Yet he needed to utilize other abilities at the moment. Pricking his ears forward, he listened intently, then swiveled one back at the distant sounds coming from the city.

  Neither direction sounded good.

  I hope your father knows how to fight. Shy kept this last thought to himself as he took a step toward the clan.

  Something slammed his back. The force of impact tossed him to the other side of the road where he came to rest near the next line of trees. With a shake of head, Shy tried to collect himself. He grasped the side of a trunk, feeling the warmth of healing energy removing scrapes along his arm.

  “Ssso...” came a hiss. “You rrreturn. Without my ssson, I sssee.”

  “Rusha.” Shy slowly rose to his feet and faced the winged leader. Having lived below their treetop homes, he was accustomed to their scents and movements. So, too, had Rusha learned to still his wings long enough to pass the albino’s sharp detections – not a good sign.

  “Chanté didn’t come with me, but he’s safe.”

  “With humansss?” Rusha spread his majestic wings in warning.

  “This isn’t my fight.” Shy stood still, keeping his hands at his sides. While his ears checked for possible others still in hiding, his emerald eyes locked on the leader’s every movement. “I didn’t come looking for that.”

  With narrowed gaze, Rusha’s feathers extended in full plumage around the face.

  “Then you ssshouldn’t have come at all!”

  It was those powerful wings that thrust the harpy forward in the first attack. A swift strike of talons grazed across his chest while Shy twisted from harm’s way. Calling upon his magic to aid in his movements, the Healer was little more than a blur. For all the White Wing’s strength and speed, he was no match against the young Lo-ans’rel.

  “Whatever Chronicles has said to you, it’s a lie!” A burst of anger fueled a quick escape by running up one of the trees. He clung to a branch and looked down. It was not long before the harpy decided to follow. There’s no time for this; I have to lose him!

  What are you doing? Katherine thought, but Shy did not answer. A plan was developing, one that needed to be timed in order to succeed.

  That’s right. Follow me. Shy hopped from one branch to the other, balancing on one foot in certain places when it became too narrow. From below, he could hear Rusha rapidly scaling the trunks. He’s probably faded his wings to climb. But if I know him, he’ll soon show them again.

  There was a brief moment of silence before Rusha did show himself, much faster than Shy had anticipated. Right on cue, wings unfurled in a display of pure power as he leaped from his perch over to Shy’s. To the sure-footed Lo-ans’rel, time seemed to crawl. He studied those claws extended in kill mode. Within the necklace, he heard Katherine’s fiery thoughts shouting for him to move! Still, he waited. When those talons were mere inches from his chest, Shy speed-stepped to the side. A branch swung forward, catching the leader along his left wing.

  There came a loud crack, and Shy knew it was broken. A sharp cry of pain echoed through the trees as Rusha fell back in a thrash of grasping fingers and flying feathers.

  “Sorry, Rusha,” Shy cringed when he heard the leader hit ground. “Ladies first.”

  You’re just going to leave him? He heard Kathrine’s thought. Shy, this is Chanté’s father!

  Bones can heal. Don�
�t forget; we still need to find Glory’s father.

  When the trees finally ended, the Healer stood at a grand pair of entrance gates. All around lay scattered feathers and fallen harpies the humans had managed to defeat. Just passed the gates stood the Elite mansion. Its glory, however, was stolen from all the blood-stained bodies littering the yard.

  Shy looked up to the sound of breaking glass. There came a scream before the body of a harpy was thrust out a window. It crumpled down the side of the building to join the rest.

  Don’t look, Glory! Shy warned, though he knew she was. I’m going in.

  You should shift into something bigger! Katherine said. Even a hawk is far too small should you need to help her family. Shifting back and forth takes up too much time and energy!

  True. Shy glanced to the still twitching body, then knelt by its side. The wings were still warm, but would soon cool as death stilled all fluids. Ignoring questioning thoughts, he lifted one of its arms.

  It was a quick slit across the wrist, one that allowed blood to run freely without damaging too much flesh. I need to be a ‘Keyarx. Like what Keith did when he first came to us.

  Isn’t this considered force-shifting? But there was no time to consider consequences. As the harpy’s blood seeped into the cut, he could instantly feel transformation taking place.

  Pain edged into his spine, taking him by surprise. With a hand to his stomach, he nearly doubled over while fingers extend into talons. A pressure built up alongside the shoulder blades as wings pushed through the skin. All the while a greenish glow tinted the areas where shifting occurred.

  Katherine’s thoughts were full of concern, but the young Healer just gritted his teeth and tried to relax. His wings had not fully developed when they heard another scream.

  This time, it was a woman.