52 – Bird Talk

  The harpies and the giant bird fought viciously—feathers and blood flying—and the battle was taking place at least ten feet off the ground, but Andy’s spear, combined with his height, gave him plenty of reach to insert himself into the fray. Moreover, his enhanced Speed attribute made tracking the flurry of feathered movements easier than it might otherwise have been, and he picked a vulnerable-looking spot on the giant bird’s torso for his first thrust.

  The giant eagle—if that was what it was—had feathers unlike any natural bird Andy had ever seen or encountered. They seemed to shift together, forming a dense, protective armor, not unlike scales, that deflected a lot of the force of his stab. Even so, his spear was no natural weapon; it was enchanted with the magic of Balefire, and it slid deep enough to penetrate the bird’s thick hide, delivering a dose of the caustic black flames.

  His action earned him the bird’s attention, and it spun, still gripping the smaller harpy in its talons, and focused its angry, angular golden eyes on Andy. He braced himself, ready for the giant avian creature to launch itself at him, but it leaned forward and thundered an ear-shattering cry at him. The sound was a physical assault, slamming into him like a wave of force. Andy’s ears rang, his nose bled, and he stumbled back, struggling to focus his eyes; everything seemed to shift in and out of focus.

  His ears were useless, but even with his vision distorted by the sonic attack, Andy saw the gigantic bird descending toward him. He supposed he had his Ember Vision to thank for that; without it, he’d have seen only blurry shadows in the rain-soaked darkness. Reflexively, he jerked his spear up and set his feet, bracing himself for an impact.

  The bird’s talons were extended, and its enormous legs gave it almost enough reach to hook him, but Andy’s spear was longer. The giant eagle made an outraged squawk as its substantial weight drove it down onto the smoldering, smoky tip of Andy’s spear, burying the enchanted steel a foot into its breast. Andy was barely aware of his success; all he knew was that the spear was almost driven out of his hands as the huge bird flapped its wings, buffeting him with feathers and wind as it struggled to pull back.

  Some people have a killer instinct; they know when to push—when to finish a fight. Andy was one of them, but he hadn’t known that about himself until after the System came. Since then, he’d killed plenty of monsters—plenty of people—and he didn’t hesitate to capitalize on the giant bird’s foible. He drove forward relentlessly, thrusting the spear as the bird tried to back off. It squawked and screeched, but he didn’t let up until it crashed into the big mesquite. Andy used his momentum to shove the spear all the way through the thrashing creature until the tip bit into the thick bark.

  In what seemed like a last-ditch effort to save itself, the pony-sized bird flapped its wings and screamed again, and this time, Andy felt the rush of mana as the sonic attack exploded into the rainy sky. To his great relief, he was out of the cone of focus, thanks to the way he had the bird pinned back against the tree. Nonetheless, the sound was still deafening. For a moment, the rain stopped falling, and Andy looked up to see the clouds above swirling from the impact of the sonic concussion.

  “Damn,” he said, twisting the spear in the now-limp bird’s chest. It didn’t scream, and its wings and talons had stopped their thrashing. Andy still couldn’t hear beyond the high-pitched ringing in his ears, but his vision had clarified for the most part. When he looked up into the tree, he saw the larger harpy cradling the wounded smaller one. He glanced around and saw that many of the other nearby harpies had left, but none seemed to be approaching him.

  Andy touched his necklace, unsure if he had to do anything to make it work as he focused on the harpies in the tree. “Is she okay?” He didn’t think he was being too reckless in assuming the harpies were female, but the thought made him wonder about their process for reproduction.

  “You speak?” the larger one asked. “Will you drive your long-talon through my heart next?”

  Andy frowned. If the harpies had once been human, wouldn’t they know what a spear was? Would they automatically assume he was hostile? There had to be more to their transformation than the physical changes. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’ve got nothing against you.”

  “Friend words? The first land-loper to speak the tongue and it uses friend words? My daughter is dying in my arms, land-loper.”

  “I don’t die,” the smaller harpy said weakly. “He saved me, Mother.”

  The larger harpy squeezed her close, and they whispered and cooed to each other for several seconds, during which Andy looked around, feeling increasingly vulnerable now that all the harpies had seen him. Across the clearing, not far from the System node, he saw a group of them, five altogether, and at their center a tall, black-feathered one. They watched him but didn’t approach. Andy gave the giant eagle’s corpse a nudge with his foot, and when it didn’t stir, he yanked his spear out, feeling he ought to be prepared in case the harpies grew violent.

  ***Congratulations, Andy! You’ve slain a Thunderbird, which is an Elite wilderness denizen. For your efforts, you’ve gained enough experience to advance your Brimstone Stalker class to level 27, earning an additional Improvement Point. The System has taken note of your bravery and offers a glimpse into the hidden fabric of reality. Look for a random Codex Entry the next time you’re resting in a safe space.***

  Andy must have stood, mouth slightly agape, reading the message for several seconds because the harpy cleared her throat and asked, “Will you seek to mate with me, then, bird slayer?”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Uh,” Andy coughed, taking a step back, but not before stealing another glance at the Thunderbird corpse. He needed a pinfeather for James’s spear quest, and the funny thing was, he knew he’d find hundreds of them on the corpse. It was “funny” because before the apocalypse he wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone what a pinfeather was. But now? His Butcher’s Insight told him not only where to harvest pinfeathers but also how to harvest the other feathers and that they’d make excellent fletching for arrows. More than that, he knew there were a hundred cuts of meat, organs, talons, and other things he ought to scavenge from the giant bird.

  “Well, land-loper?” the harpy pressed.

  “Um, no—I, uh, wasn’t looking to mate. I just want to talk. Is your daughter going to be okay? I can get her medicine.”

  She squawked, and something told Andy the necklace hadn’t translated part of his words. “Speak plainly, bird-slayer.”

  “I can help your daughter if she needs it.”

  “No. She will heal and is too young for mating.”

  Andy nodded, glancing at the group of harpies across the way. They were still standing together near the base of a large tree. Something tickled a memory in the depths of his mind, and a vague recollection of a fantasy story or myth about harpies came to him—something about how they’d capture sailors to mate with them. Was that why she kept mentioning it? He supposed their children had to come from somewhere…but it didn’t make sense. The apocalypse hadn’t been going on long enough for all of that to have taken place. There had to be more to their origin story than simple humans mutating.

  He gestured toward the group of harpies. “Is that tall one your leader?”

  “Our elders. The tall one is our matron.”

  “Will she speak with me?”

  “If your tongue continues to work the right sounds.”

  Andy turned toward the matron and her group of harpies, noting that some of them bore short spears of their own. They also wore belts and jewelry, and he saw at least one long knife. He wondered if they crafted those things or if they were scavenged, or maybe remnants of their former lives. As he started toward them, another thought struck him: maybe they weren’t mutated people, but rather mutated birds. Then again, maybe they were both. Maybe the harpy bloodline existed in more than one species.

  Before his mind could drift too far down that line of inquiry, he paused and waved his arm, squinting into the pouring rain. His ears were still ringing, but his conversation with the other harpy was a testament to his recovery. That said, it was hard to tell how loudly he yelled as he called out, “Hello!”

  Squawks and abbreviated screeches were his response, and he wondered if he was too far away for the necklace to work. Resting the spear over his shoulder to look as non-threatening as possible, he continued closer, holding his free hand over his eyes against the pounding rain. He kept his gaze focused on the matron in case the necklace’s magic needed him to focus on an individual for it to work, and when they didn’t leap to attack, he stepped under the canopy of the mesquite, cutting the amount of rain hitting him down by about half.

  “Hello,” he said again.

  “He does speak,” the matron said, glancing at a white-feathered harpy beside her. They both had big yellow-brown eyes, but the matron’s seemed to glow from within, and Andy wondered if that was evidence of a magical sight spell in action.

  Andy nodded. “I do.”

  “You slew the bird,” one of the other harpies said.

  “He saved Bexa.”

  “He’d make a fine mate!”

  “Take him, Lyta!”

  The matron held up her long-taloned hands and hissed. “Quiet! Let him speak!”

  Andy smiled, clearing his throat as he looked from one harpy to another. “Well, um, my name is Andy.”

  “Andy!”

  “Andy…”

  “Andy?”

  They all repeated his name with various inflections, and then the matron held up her hand for silence again. “I am Lyta. What do you want with our kind? To us, you are meat or a mate. Since you saved Bexa, I will allow you to choose.”

  Andy shook his head, lowering his spear so the butt rested on the ground by his foot. “I’m afraid that won’t work for me. I’m not interested in being your mate.” He couldn’t help a soft chuckle as he added, “Nor do I aspire to be your dinner. In fact, I’m here to ask you why your people are invading my settlement.”

  Lyta squawked and bared a mouthful of sharp teeth at him. Her attending harpies also hissed, and many brandished weapons. “You have a rude tongue, land-loper!”

  “Our trees!” one of the harpies cried.

  Andy shook his head. “Listen, I understand you need the trees as shelter during the storm, but this mesa”—he waved his hand to indicate the surrounding land—“is my people’s settlement, and the trees grew here because of a Boon we got from the System.”

  “And so you wish to banish us? You must think yourself mighty indeed, bird-slayer!” Lyta yelled, once again baring her sharp teeth.

  Andy tried to indicate calm by leaning on his spear and holding up an empty palm. “No, listen a minute, will you? My people are still here. We took shelter from the storm down below, but when it passes, we’ll be coming out again. You’re welcome to use the trees until then.”

  “Until!” one of the harpies cried. “What is this talk, Lyta?”

  Lyta sighed and shook her head, her black feathers rustling, but her anger seemed to fade. “My people live in the now. The until is difficult for them. I understand, though.”

  “I do!” one of the other elders said—the white-feathered one.

  “I like until!” another said, puffing out her feathers.

  “I was kind of hoping we could be friends. Um…” Andy paused, thinking about the harpies he’d killed by the waterfall. “I mean, if you don’t attack us, we won’t attack you. At least not my people.” Lyta stared at him, and Andy gestured over his shoulder to the Thunderbird corpse. “I’ll share my kill with you, too. Are you hungry?”

  “Meat!” one of the harpies cried, taking a few steps toward the clearing, but stopping and jumping back with a flutter of her wings when she saw Andy looking at her.

  “That’s right.” Andy smiled again. “Meat.” He focused on Lyta. “When the storm stops, we’ll come out of our shelter, and you and your people should move on. If you find a place nearby, we can still be friends. Have you ever thought of that? Making friends with people like us? We can help you deal with dangerous monsters.”

  Lyta tilted her head, regarding him for a long moment. “Are you monsters, Andy?”

  The question caught him off guard, and Andy snorted before regaining his composure. He almost said no, but after a moment’s consideration, he shrugged. “Some people are. I bet some of your people are, too.” Her frown returned, but Andy shook his head. “What’s important is that I’m not, and neither are you, right? I bet you’ve met some dangerous creatures out there, though.” He gestured toward the edge of the plateau.

  Lyta looked to the other harpies clustered nearby, taking them in one by one, and after a long pause, she turned back to Andy. “You offer meat and killed to save one of ours. You say we can stay until the storm passes.” She nodded slowly as the others gathered close, making funny cooing sounds. “We can try this…friends.”