Flight of the Golden Harpy

by Susan Klaus

  “Let’s put it behind us and not think of it again.”

  * * *

  They traveled over the next ridge in the darkness, and the following morning Shail and Kari ascended into another valley. He stopped at one of the numerous streams that ran through the tropical jungle. “We rest here.”

  Kari sat down and drank while she soaked her feet in the flowing cool water. Shail stood nearby, on guard and still paranoid.

  “Come, sit by me,” she said, but he stared off in one direction. “What is it?”

  “A harpy,” he answered. Soon a brown-winged harpy sailed low through the trees and landed in front of them. The male dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

  With Shail’s slight nod, the male humbly rose. “What say you?” Shail asked.

  “Aron worries for you,” the harpy relayed. “Learning Turner followed your trail, he sent his flock out to search for you. A distraction ended Turner’s hunt, but the number of hunters grows in the trees. They know of your broken yellow wing.”

  Shail glanced at Kari. “We came upon such hunters. Are all females and young on the islands and safe?”

  The harpy nodded.

  “Tell Aron to end the search. I am found. In two lights, I reach the mountain, and I wish a gathering of all western males. My mate was attacked, and the war begins.”

  The harpy backed away, head bowed and took flight.

  Kari stood. “War! What war?”

  “This is not the concern of a female harpy, so do not ask.”

  “Anything that concerns you, concerns me, especially if you’re going to war against men over me.”

  “The attack on you destroyed my last tolerance. It is time to take revenge for all our raped females, slaughtered fledglings, and my males, who are hung from trees. I shall talk of this no more. The war involves only the males.”

  She pulled on his arm. “You’re acting like a chauvinistic, obstinate man.”

  He raised his head and arched his wings. “I know not those words, but I think I am glad!” he barked back. “I am the male and rule this bond. It is the harpy way.”

  “Screw your harpy way! No one tells me what to do or say.”

  No longer a minor disagreement, it was an angry fight with his little female. He deflated and lowered his wings. “Please, Kari, understand. My flock is dying, and many hunters now know of our females. The time for meekness and fleeing is over. We must face the enemy.”

  “You said you’d rid the land of men, but I didn’t take you seriously. Shail, the men have weapons. They’ll slaughter the harpies.”

  “They slaughter us now, one by one.” He touched her cheek. “You worry I may be lost, but long life is unknown to a golden male. I do not wish my son to share this fate. We talk of this no more.” He turned and walked toward the jungle.

  Kari chased after him, begging him to tell her about the war, but he refused. He wouldn’t divulge the when, where, or how of the coming conflict against man.

  They traveled up a high ridge as the last rays of light disappeared into the horizon. The temperature slowly dropped on their northern trek. Shail came to some jagged rocks. “We sleep here,” he said, motioning to a slight ledge.

  Kari looked at the skimpy plant life and sweeping open rocks. “You want to stay here and sleep at night?”

  “Yes, you are tired, and it shall be cold. The harpies watch over us,” he relayed. “There is less worry now. The next fall of darkness we enter the sacred mountain.”

  Kari pulled some fruit out of the sack that they had brought from the valley. They sat on a ledge, eating dinner and watching the orange and red sunset. Afterward, they crawled under the ledge to escape the nippy wind. She rested on his soft extended bottom wing, clutched in his arms as he lay on his side. The partially cast top wing was used for cover.

  At dawn they rose and were greeted by a large pile of assorted fruit. “Your harpies brought the food?” Kari asked, taking a piece as Shail stared across the landscape.

  “I knew Aron would send a provider and protector,” he answered.

  “Who is Aron?”

  “You know him,” Shail relayed. “He came to you when the grogins came on the road.”

  “I also met him at the lake near Dad’s house. He told me you needed me. I didn’t understand until I found you with hunters.”

  Shail whirled around and faced her. “He sent you?” he growled. “He endangered my future mate and sent her to face four hunters?”

  “Shail, don’t get your feathers all ruffled,” she said. “He didn’t send me. He just warned me, and it was luck I found you. And I was in no danger. No one knew I was a harpy, including me. You were so hurt that only a doctor could have saved your life. Maybe Aron knew.”

  Shail plopped down on the ledge. “Maybe he did, but the island hunters saw your devotion to a male harpy. An experienced hunter might have guessed your nature.”

  “Well they didn’t guess.” She sat down on the ledge beside him. “Besides, those Westend boys are scared to death of my father. They wouldn’t dare harm a hair on my head. So, tell me about Aron. He’s a leader like you?”

  “He is a leader of a western flock, but not like I,” Shail said. “He rules many. I rule all.”

  “You two are close? He seemed upset at the lake.”

  “We are of different blood, but he is like an older brother. I seek his words and wisdom often. When my father was killed, Aron’s father took me to the islands and raised me.” Shail stood up. “Let us now go.”

  “I suppose you’re in a hurry to see him, so you can talk about your war.”

  Shail shook his head and started the descent down the ridge.

  * * *

  By midmorning they entered the trees again, but they were hardwoods, holding little food. Even in this last valley, the weather was cold. Kari had wished many times she had brought her bloodstained jacket, but they had fled in a hurry. On the forest floor, they stopped at a crystal-clear pond. Shail knelt and sucked up the icy water between his lips, but Kari still drank like a human, cupping the water with her hands and bringing it to her mouth. Shail lifted his head and sniffed. Shaking the droplets from his locks, he stood and stared toward the jungle.

  Kari tried to mimic him and sensed the presence of another harpy. A brown harpy soon landed near Shail and handed him a sash bag full of food. Shail and the harpy stared at one another, but Kari did not hear their silent talk. She realized they had purposely excluded her and must be discussing the war. After the brown left, Shail and Kari continued their journey through the valley. They approached the base of the enormous sacred mountain.

  Shail stared up at the steep black crest. “The light goes soon. We can travel in the dark and end this journey or sleep here and now.”

  Kari gazed up at the looming and ominous mountain, her arms wrapped around herself. She preferred to crawl between Shail’s warm wings but wanted to end the quest. “Let’s keep going.”

  They started the upward climb, the light fading behind them. Kari had noticed the cold weather rarely affected Shail, but he wrapped his good wing around himself in an attempt to stay warm.

  After a few hours, the same harpy flew down, landing in their path. He bowed and handed Shail a large woven cloth of the sash material. The harpy flew off, and Shail turned, placing the cloth on Kari’s shoulders. “This shall help.”

  Kari instantly felt the warmth. They moved on in the darkness, Kari close behind Shail. His night vision was superior to hers, but she noticed since wandering the jungle with him that her instincts of hearing, sight, and smell had improved.

  “You have the same senses as I,” he told her, “just unused. In time you shall be like me.”

  They reached a high ridge, and wind fiercely blew. Shail sniffled toward the plastic cast holding his broken wing. Kari detected his frustration, wishing he could remove the cast and spread the latter half and wingtip to ward off chilliness. Many times she had explained that to remove the cast too soon would forever ground
him.

  Kari saw all plant life had vanished except for small patches of silver moss growing between the rocks. The sacred mountain of the harpies perplexed her. Why would Shail and the harpies treasure an inhospitable place, void of warmth, trees, and food? She realized its safety from hunters; the hurricane gusts would easily slam a large hovercraft into the jagged mountainside. She thought about their little bonding cave, wishing she were there. What drew her mate to this forbidding peak?

  The climb became straight up. Shail could no longer gracefully leap from ledge to ledge using his feet that bent and grasped like hands. Scaling the sheer rock, he used his hands and flapped his wings for balance. Reaching an open ledge, he stopped and pulled her up by her arms. “I did not wish my harpies to think me weak, but it has become too risky for you.” He turned and sniffled into the wind. “I call them.”

  After several minutes, three male harpies appeared out of the darkness. They frantically flapped their wings, fighting the blustery weather to set down. A brown-winged male a few inches taller than Shail approached. Kari recognized the handsome harpy as Aron. Shail and Aron embraced as the other two bowed. She watched Shail and Aron nuzzle and lick one another on the neck. Though in some human cultures, men kissed in greeting, she was surprised by her mate’s open display of affection to a male.

  Aron pulled his face out of the golden locks and held Shail by the shoulders. “When shall your recklessness end?” Aron ranted. “You sent the cabin fledgling away when he should have brought your flock. You allowed the hunt with the lack of flight, risking your mate and your wings, and faced the peril of this mountain, rather than call for me; all for pride. I understand the golden way to prove courage, but think of your flock. We need you.”

  “Aron, I am cold and hungry, as is my mate. I am too tired to challenge your disrespectful words.” Shail glanced at Kari. “He is displeased.”

  Kari smiled. Aron did treat Shail like a troublesome kid brother.

  Aron walked to Kari and bowed his head. “May I have the honor of carrying you?”

  “You saved me from the grogins. It’s my honor,” she relayed. Aron swept her up into his arms and leaped into the draft. Two harpies took Shail. They flew higher up the mountain and finally landed on a sheer cliff, setting Shail and Kari down. The two males disappeared inside the sliver of a crevice. Aron, Kari, and Shail followed. Kari held Aron and Shail’s hands into the pitch-black cave, blindly walking between the males who saw in darkness. After some time, she saw a distant glow, revealing the shadowy walls of the narrow passage. The deeper they traveled, the brighter the light.

  Kari was finally led into an enormous space with high ceilings. Small stone pits burned with fire, and surrounding each pit were hundreds of male harpies. When Shail entered, they fell to their knees and lowered their heads. She was in awe of the vast place and numerous harpies. She stared at the walls and ceiling, and became breathless, recognizing the place. Instead of black mountain stone, there were rivets and metal beams. The sacred mountain’s giant cave was an ancient spaceship.

  11

  After several discouraging weeks, John Turner returned home, fearing he had lost Kari forever. His resources were limited, having only three other hovercrafts and two freighters to aid in the search. In the hope of finding the old blue vehicle, he and his crew of men had flown over the nearest logging roads and woods, but the job was enormous. His property consisted of thousands of roads, trails, and paths capable of bearing a small vehicle. Old Doc White had obviously saved the golden’s life. Kari would have come home if it died.

  John went to Doc’s cottage several evenings, pleading with the man to reveal Kari’s whereabouts. At first Doc stubbornly refused, convinced that Kari and the harpy loved one another and belonged together, and John should give up the hunt. Doc finally took pity on John, telling him he honestly didn’t know where they were.

  The longer time passed, the more John’s hate grew, regretting not killing the golden male. John’s harpy wife had told him after their daughter’s birth that Kari was destined to bond with a five-year-old golden fledgling in the north. With his wealth and power, John thought he could change destiny and keep his daughter and the harpy apart. He sent Kari to Earth, figuring she would forget the harpy, and hunters would solve the problem of the arrogant teenage male, but his plans failed. She came back still loving the harpy, and the golden beat the odds, surviving the ten years and remaining faithful to their fledgling bond.

  John couldn’t understand Kari. She was half human and a smart girl. Couldn’t she remove the blinders and see her future? There was no future with a male harpy. The harpies were a doomed species, teetering on extinction, and the golden male was the most hunted of all. When he died, she could be in grave danger; if he survived, what kind of life could they lead? They would have to run and hide constantly in fear, and her fledgling sons would face the same miserable existence. John thought about the sorrow she’d feel if her babies were butchered.

  If she married a man, she’d live happily and securely with her daughters among humans. Can’t she see all this? he thought, making his way into the house.

  Like Doc, Charlie had argued with him about the pursuit and sent John into numerous rages. “Too much time has passed,” Charlie had said. “The harpy has recovered from his wounds, and they are a bonded pair. They cannot be separated. If you kill her mate, it will destroy Kari.”

  “There’re drugs that will make her forget him,” he had told the meddling old Indian. “She may be angry with me, but at least she’ll be alive.”

  Charlie climbed out of John’s hover and trailed him to the house. He had finished the construction of the beetle-proof building at the mill and rejoined John in the hunt.

  They walked silently to the house. Maria opened the door, her face worried. Charlie shook his head and walked past her. She put her hand over her mouth, fighting back her daily tears, common tears that flowed when a loved one was lost to the unknown. She went to the kitchen to serve John and Charlie a late dinner.

  The communicator buzzed in the den, and John walked in and answered it. An unfamiliar young man appeared on the screen. “Hi. I’m trying to reach Kari Turner.”

  “She’s not here,” said John. “I’m her father. Who the devil are you?”

  “Hello, Mr. Turner. My name is Ted, and I’m a friend of Kari’s. We met on the ship from Earth. I was just calling to see how she’s doing. When can I reach her?”

  “God only knows. She disappeared with the harpies, and for weeks I’ve been searching for her. I suppose you won’t have any useful information on where she went?”

  Ted was silent for a moment. “No, Mr. Turner, I don’t know where she is, but we became pretty good friends. She said she planned to find the harpies and help them. She was very committed to the gold one that saved her life.”

  “Yes, I know all about that damn golden,” John said. “She’s with him now. Her admiration for that animal is misdirected. He’ll ruin her life.”

  “Mr. Turner, I can tell you’re upset, and I don’t know you, but I know Kari. When she talked about the harpy, her eyes lit up. She really cared about him. It sounds like she’s exactly where she wanted to be. Maybe it’s best you give her some space. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”

  “You’re right, boy,” John said. “You damn well don’t know me, and you sure as hell don’t know what’s best for my daughter.”

  John angrily pushed the disconnect key and walked into the dining room. He poured a glass of wine and took a gulp. Maria was setting a plate down in front of Charlie. “Goddamn it,” John said, throwing the full glass against the wall. “Some jerk in Hampton telling me how much my daughter cared about that stinking golden male. Did everyone know about this except me? Then this jerk tells me I should give Kari some space. The runt was lucky he was on the other side of a com.”

  The communicator buzzed again. “The nerve of that bastard to call me back. This time he’s getting a piece of my mind,” John sai
d, returning to the den and pushing the answer key. “Listen you,” he growled, not waiting for the screen to illuminate.

  “Mr. Turner?” said a deep voice. A middle-aged man appeared on the com.

  “Yes?” John said, collecting himself.

  “My name is George McGill. I saw your reward for your missing daughter on a Web memo. Said she was in a late-model blue terrain vehicle and had a pet golden harpy with a broken wing.”

  “That’s right. You know something?” John asked.

  “I didn’t see her or the harpy, but I think I know where the vehicle is. Does that entitle me to your reward?” McGill asked.

  “If it’s hers, you got the reward,” John said.

  “I saw it two days ago on your estate. My hover had mechanical problems and barely made it to Terrance before it quit. The solar strips won’t hold a charge. Darn hover put me out of business, but I figure might as well call and collect on the reward. Get something for my trouble.”

  “I understand, Mr. McGill,” John said, knowing he was talking to a seasoned harpy hunter. “So you were poaching on my property and planned to harvest my daughter’s pet? I’ll still send you the reward if your information is accurate. I keep my word.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard you’re tough, but honest. That vehicle is about a hundred miles north of Westend, just off the coast by a small cabin. I spotted the cabin and flew down for a closer look. The vehicle is hid pretty good under bushes, but luckily some glass caught the light, giving it away.”

  “I know the cabin,” John said. “I’m faxing you the ticket for the twenty grand. You can collect the reward from the Terrance bank.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Turner. Maybe we can do business again,” said McGill.

  John scribbled on a voucher and jammed it into the fax. “I don’t think so, McGill,” he said, “and if I ever catch you poaching on my estate, I’ll hunt you down like a harpy, and remember I keep my word.” He disconnected the communicator and rushed back to the dining room.