Flight of the Golden Harpy

by Susan Klaus

  Senator Blackwell grabbed the microphone out of John’s hand. “Well, one of those timid creatures had the nerve to kill three men. The harpies are seeking revenge. If it’s true that harpies can destroy the swarms, why didn’t they do it sooner? I’m telling you they caused this plague, and now they want us out of the protected port to kill us. We should wait and see if the swarms leave before giving in to those devils.”

  John took hold of the microphone and eyed the senator. “I wasn’t quite finished,” he said.

  Blackwell looked up, handed the microphone to John, and backed away.

  “Look, everyone, the swarms aren’t leaving,” John said. “They smell us and will stay at the port until they get in. We don’t have the water or food to wait them out or for a ship to arrive. There is a connection between the harpies and the swarms. For decades the harpies have protected their jungle by preventing the beetles from multiplying. The protection was stopped when the harpies were faced with extinction. We allowed hunters to reduce their flocks. We are the plague and broke the chain in nature. Without harpies, the swarms would multiply and obliterate the planet, and there’d be nothing to stop them.”

  John turned and looked at Blackwell. “What Senator Blackwell suggests doesn’t make sense. If the harpies want us dead, why did they warn us about the coming swarms so we could prepare this port? Why would their ruler come here and offer a truce that could save us when he could do nothing and watch us die? If they destroy the swarm to get our women, they would still face our weapons and be slaughtered None of this adds up unless you understand the harpies’ motives. They long for peace, and pride themselves in protecting life, even human life that has threatened their existence. Harpies will die when they attack these swarms. What kind of race are we to deny them some rights, and land, when they’re willing to forgive and protect us? As their ruler said, if we’re that greedy, we have sealed our own fate.”

  The people broke into noisy chatter. “Give the harpies their demands!” several men yelled.

  Waters took the microphone. “As governor, I’m issuing a state-of-emergency bill, and we’ll vote on it by a show of hands. I assume I have the senate’s approval.”

  Blackwell shrugged and several senators nodded.

  “Raise your hand if you want to pass a law prohibiting harpy hunting, granting the harpies human rights, and endorsing the treaty, giving the harpies the entire outback, the land west of the city once known as Terrance, and the western islands.”

  The massive domed room became a sea of raised hands.

  “Those opposed?” Waters asked.

  Blackwell and the other senators raised their hands, and there were a few scattered raised hands in the crowd.

  “It’s almost unanimous. We’ll give the harpies their demands,” Waters said, and a roar of cheers rose from the crowd. He turned to John. “Without your compelling speech, we might have lost the vote. You should have been in politics.”

  “No thanks.” John grinned. “No offense, but I’m too bad at lying to be in your line of work. Besides, it wasn’t me that convinced them. They voted for Shail.”

  “I’ll draw up the new law and treaty,” said Waters. “When I’m done, you can read it over before I sign it. I just hope your friend, Shail, doesn’t change his mind.”

  “He won’t,” said John. “Harpies are very honest and reliable.”

  Governor Waters motioned to Watkins to come up on the platform. “This would be a good time to play the disc on the monitors and answer any questions.”

  “It’s an extraordinary ship log. It shows the creation of a new species,” said Watkins. “The disc is loaded and ready to play.”

  Waters announced to the people that the monitors would show the ancient captain’s log. All eyes focused on the large screens normally used for incoming and outgoing ship times and cargo. The story of Captain James, his crew, and his ill-fated freighter, The Princess, played for the Hampton people. The port was quiet, and women shed tears when the elderly James expressed his love for his harpy children and grandchildren. When the disc was over, men shook their heads and grumbled, disgusted that the harpies had been so misjudged and mistreated. A new admiration rose for the harpies that were named after Jack Harper, a lonely young crewman with the compassion to save an animal called a loca eagle.

  Governor Waters sighed. “It’s unbelievable,” he said to John and Watkins. “For a century and a half an entire race has suffered and died because of a few lying men. The Dorial monument will crumble, and the senators have no hope of reelection after this scandal. Regardless of the swarm threat, the harpies should have been protected all these years.”

  John nodded. “Being afraid and uniformed creates a prejudice that’s a tough mountain to overcome, and a few rotten men can stop the climb. Your predecessor, Governor Blake, wanted to expose the truth and help the harpies, but his wife was the real hidden agenda. She’s a harpy and Shail’s mother.”

  “I’ll be darned,” said Waters. “I always wondered how Henry managed to get a beautiful young wife. I’d better go into an office and start drawing up the bill and treaty. I have only until morning. I’m eager to get to know Shail.”

  “You’re a fair man,” said John. “Once he gets to know you, I think you’ll get along fine.”

  Through the night Waters and his staff worked on the documents. John wandered through the port of people that attempted to sleep in the cramped quarters. Even with the thick metal walls, they heard the dreadful buzz and hum of the beetles. Most of the water was gone, and the crowd worried. After all the atrocities inflicted on his flock, would the golden ruler keep his word and save them?

  * * *

  After his trip to the port, Shail returned to the governor’s mansion and his ever-growing male flock. All knew of the single surviving golden who ruled, but many had never seen Shail. The eastern flocks lived nocturnal lives and dwelled just outside of the large city of Hampton. The strategy had saved them, since the hunters were oblivious to their existence. The river harpies also had adjusted their lifestyle. Abandoning the trees, they learned to live and conceal themselves in the open swampland. The hunters believed the eastern harpies were extinct, and the river area held a few scattered flocks. As a result, Aron and Shail’s western males took the full heat; the hunters journeyed west for their harpy prey. When Shail looked at the huge gathering, he was surprised by the numbers. He ruled a flock of several thousand.

  Shail walked inside the mansion, and his mother embraced him and kissed his cheek. “I am very proud of you,” she said.

  “You think it wise I choose to save the humans?”

  “I know many who are good in the port, and I would mourn their loss if you chose differently, but your decision must be for the welfare of your flock.”

  “I have considered all the ways, and I believe this is the best path. If the humans agree to a truce, I shall save them. I gave my word.”

  After eating a curious human food of nut bread, Shail curled up on a soft rug in the main living room. His mother sat on the floor and stroked his back. He relaxed and stared at the leaping flames in the fireplace. The fear of sleeping in a human dwelling had long passed. Little could frighten him now.

  He drifted to sleep under his cream wings and sought Kari in the illusionary state. They connected telepathically, and he embraced his mate. Feeling contentment, he slowly was becoming whole again, the scars of abuse fleeting.

  The first rays of dawn filtered through the windows and woke Shail. He went outside and watched the mass of harpies stir in and beneath the surrounding trees. Aron approached and handed him some fruit.

  “The next few lights shall be hard on all here,” Shail said and nibbled. “Have them rest. I soon go to the port and learn if the humans accept our demands. I shall return before mid-light.”

  With the repellent sap wrapped in a large leaf, Shail spread his wings and flew south to the domed port. He reached the doors, fluttered, and poured the sap in front of the threshold. The bee
tles scurried away, and he landed and tapped lightly against the doors.

  A man peeked out the door. “He’s here!” he yelled to the room of people and slid the door open.

  Shail stepped inside, and the bedded-down humans clamored to their feet and quietly stared at him. He waited near the door as John and Waters walked toward him.

  “They have agreed to the truce and the new laws,” Waters said.

  Shail looked at John, seeking validation. “It’s true, Shail,” John said. “The harpies are protected by law. There’s no more hunting. You have the same rights as humans, and the western outback and islands, even my estate, belongs to the harpies.”

  “Once the swarms are gone, we’ll remove the surviving people off your land,” said Waters.

  “I do not know of this owning of land,” Shail said, “but I do not wish for those humans to lose their homes. If they cause no harm to harpies or the jungle, they may stay.”

  “That’s very generous,” said Waters. “So you’ll destroy the swarms?”

  “You accepted the demands and soon shall be free of the beetles,” said Shail. “I vowed so.”

  Waters turned toward the people and announced, “He has agreed to save us!”

  The crowd erupted with cheers and claps. Shail jumped at the loud response, unfamiliar that humans could make such noise. He stared, wide-eyed, at them and slowly relaxed, realizing they were expressing approval.

  The noise subsided, and Shail turned to Waters. “They have heard the truths of harpies?”

  “Yes, we’ve learned about your race and all the injustice you’ve suffered,” said Waters. “I can only say I’m sorry to you and your harpies. Mr. Turner gave a full disclosure. He is truly responsible for convincing the people.”

  Shail glanced at John. “I was told if you take your hand in mine it would make us friends.” He extended his hand to John.

  John grinned and shook Shail’s hand. “We’re more than friends. You bonded with my daughter, so you’re my son-in-law.” He took hold of Shail’s shoulders. “And like a son, you couldn’t make me happier.”

  “I am pleased you accept me,” Shail said. “When you protected my flock on your lands, I longed for your friendship.”

  John motioned toward Waters. “Shail, I think you’ll be good friends with this man. Whether you destroy the swarms or not, Governor Waters made sure the harpies are always protected by our laws. He’s an honest, fair-minded man.”

  Shail nodded to Waters. “So our trust grows,” he said and turned to leave.

  “Wait, Shail,” said Waters. “Don’t you want to say anything to these people?”

  Shail stared at the thousands of smiling humans. Followed by John and Waters, he walked toward the crowd that cleared a path. Reaching the center of the room, he stopped and gazed up at the ceiling and then at the people. He recalled his trembling and fear of the little cabin and the old doctor, yet now he stood in an enclosed building among fifty thousand humans, some armed, and he felt nothing but calm. He raised his head and forced his soft voice to be heard. “All my life I have waited for this light when human and harpy are at peace. You learned we carry your blood, but the blood makes no difference. It was fear of the unknown that truly divided us. We shall save you from the swarms or die trying. The survival of both our races has brought this truce. May it continue with our offspring.”

  The crowd’s roar was deafening, and Shail flinched, the sound offending his sensitive hearing. He sensed admiration in their minds, and also the reverence of worship, similar to his own flock. He glanced at John, puzzled.

  John patted his shoulder. “They’re grateful, but can also see your dignity and grace. They love you, Shail.”

  Despite the enthusiastic response, Shail remained cautious, not easily exploited. Humans were fickle creatures, and only days earlier they had wanted his death. He was free of drugs and hate, and his keen instincts and telepathy had fully returned. He was on alert. He started toward the doors when he detected strong hate aimed at him. He froze and nervously scanned the room. His wings were slightly raised for flight, and he sniffled with agitation.

  “What’s wrong?” John asked, seeing his menaced demeanor.

  “A threat,” Shail said quietly.

  A man leered at him from behind several people. Shail put the face with the hateful mind and recognized the hunting range owner. Shail detected Bill’s smoldering anger.

  Bill pulled a laser gun from his pocket, pointed it at Shail, and stepped out beyond the crowd. “This stinking harpy murdered my brother, and you’re fools to trust it.”

  Seeing the weapon, the people fled, creating a large space between Bill and Shail, with only John remaining by his side. The room became quiet as all watched the drama unfold.

  “Put down the gun, Simpson,” John ordered.

  “No way,” said Bill. “This golden is going to die.” He pulled the trigger, and John leaped in front of Shail, taking a blast to his back. Shail held John as he slipped to the floor. Bill’s mouth hung open. He had just shot a man in front of a ton of witnesses.

  Shail leaped across John’s body and flew at the big man. His shoulder rammed Bill’s gut, knocking him down. The hard blow sent the weapon flying out of Bill’s hand, and it slid across the floor. Shail rolled to his feet and sprang into the air while Bill staggered to rise and retrieve his weapon. Like a tenacious mockingbird after a cat, Shail dive-bombed the man. Bill vainly swung his fists at the elusive target as his face and back were hammered with the harpy’s swift kicks. A tremendous belt to his nose sent Bill crashing to the floor, and he stared up at the fluttering harpy that flew like a revenging bat out of hell, relentless and lethal.

  Shail landed close to the sprawled-out man. “Rise,” he shouted, and his feathers quivered with rage.

  With his shirt sleeve, Bill wiped his blood off his face. He turned this way and that, and then scrambled toward a six-foot iron suturing rod. Grasping it, he stood up and wildly swung at the harpy. Shail leaped backward, the metal nearly slicing open his stomach.

  “Go on, you little coward,” Bill growled. “Take to the air.” He charged, wielding the iron weapon.

  Shail dodged the blows, keeping his feet on the ground. “I need not wings nor flight to defeat you.”

  Bill swung and missed, and Shail lunged at him, grabbing the rod in the center. They clung to the weapon, struggling to out-muscle one another and force the rod down on the other’s throat. Shail and his flapping wings began to out-power the man. In desperation, Bill kneed Shail’s stomach and flung him to the floor, slamming the rod toward the downed harpy. Shail rolled out of the way and scrambled from the pursuing man and his crashing weapon. It was only a matter of time before Bill connected with a powerful blow.

  “Shail, take this!” yelled a voice from the crowd. Ted tossed Shail a second rod. He caught it and deflected a fatal strike. Bouncing to his feet, Shail held his weapon, the battleground now even. He flung his hair, mocking his enemy. They moved in a stalking circle and then Bill rushed him, flailing his weapon. Shail swung back, and the iron rods collided. The clanging of metal echoed through the dome. The two adversaries wielded their weapons, and the fight resembled a sword duel between ancient knights. With each of Bill’s attacks, Shail warded off the blows and swung back.

  Puffing and sweaty, Bill hysterically swung his rod at the harpy. Instead of striking back, Shail dropped down, spun around, and rose. His rod hit the unsuspecting man’s back. The devastating blow sent Bill flying. He landed and lay on the hard surface.

  Shail slightly panted, each breath incensed and softly seething. “Get up,” he said.

  Lying on his belly, breathless, exhausted, and in pain, Bill slowly rose and then lunged for his laser gun several feet away. Grasping his weapon, he pointed it at Shail and clambered to his feet. “Now you’re going to die,” he said. A hideous grin formed on his lips.

  Shail backed away, still holding his rod, and glared at the man. Before the gun fired, Shail threw his rod s
traight at Bill. Like a spear, it bayoneted Bill in the chest. Bill dropped the laser gun and staggered. He stared with shock at the rod piercing his chest and looked up at Shail. He dropped to his knees as the harpy approached.

  “Two lights have passed,” Shail said. “Remember my vow.”

  “You promised to kill me…” Bill gasped. He crumbled to the ground and was still.

  Shail looked at John. A doctor leaned over him, attempting to treat the wound, and Waters and Ted stood by. Shail rushed over, slid to his knees, and stopped next to John.

  “Even if we could get him to the hospital…” The doctor bit his lip.

  Shail carefully lifted John’s head and cradled it in his lap. “Do not go.”

  John gazed up. Blood trickled from his grin. “Did you get him, Shail?” he asked.

  Shail nodded. “He is dead.”

  “Good, you’re a good boy.” John gripped Shail’s arm and grimaced with pain. “Promise me…” He struggled to speak. “Promise me you’ll take care of my daughter?”

  “I shall,” Shail said.

  “I love Kari so much,” John said. “I’m glad she chose you. I’m sorry I misjudged you,” he said weakly. He gasped and his breathing ceased. His hand went limp, releasing the hold on Shail’s arm.

  Shail breathed hard, fighting back tears, and watched the doctor check John’s pulse.

  “He’s gone,” the doctor said.