53 – Lurikeen

  As Andy worked on the Thunderbird, removing feathers, gathering them in bundles, and then butchering the carcass, the harpies crowded close—some on the ground and others above, in the branches. All told, Andy counted eighteen of the creatures, and while he cut and laid out the meat on bundles of springy, green mesquite branches, he couldn’t help his eyes from taking in their strange, disparate appearances.

  The harpies were all feathered, though some had more feathers than others. Beneath those feathers were unmistakably feminine bodies. Some had larger wings than others, but it was clear they could all fly. Their arms were universally thin and spindly, but they had long talons at the tips of their fingers, and their feet, too, looked like they’d be more at home on giant birds than people.

  Despite the lack of feathers on some of the harpies’ chests, their mannerisms and movements were alien enough that Andy didn’t have any trouble keeping his gaze focused on their faces. Luckily for his human sensibilities, they were expressive, and he could tell when they were smiling, scowling, or simply peering with interest and obvious hunger at what he was doing.

  “You use that sharp-talon well, Andy,” Lyta said. “How do you know just where to cut?”

  “I have a skill called Butcher’s Insight.” A thought occurred to him, and he asked, “Do you harpies gain skills from the System?”

  She made a soft growling sound that almost sounded like a cat’s purr, so Andy wasn’t sure what emotion she was conveying as she said, “The System speaks to us. When the great change came upon my flock, we gained the word-knowing. Yes, we have skills.”

  Andy continued to carve out an enormous drumstick as he replied, “Your flock? Do you remember your existence before you were harpies?”

  Lyta hissed softly, glancing around at her fidgeting, cooing, murmuring people. “We flew, we mated, we fed. When the change came, everything before became as a dream.”

  Andy nodded, setting the large piece of meat beside his growing stack of cuts. “And was everyone here a part of your flock?”

  One of the harpies above him squealed a high-pitched giggle. “He talks much! Rather I tasted his flesh than his words, Matron!”

  Lyta chopped a hand through the air. “Hush, Jinna.” She watched Andy as he moved on to the next section of the giant, plucked carcass. “I know not. We didn’t speak in the before. Everyone looks different. The System guided us together. The System gave us purpose. Even as we accepted you as a friend, the System rewarded us.”

  Andy arched an eyebrow. “It did?”

  “Yes.”

  She didn’t say more, and Andy didn’t press. He figured he’d been out of the tunnels for an hour or more, and he wanted to finish up with the bird so he could report to his friends before they did something rash. So, he focused on the task and was more than a little surprised when he finished up and received a message from the System:

  ***Congratulations, Andy! You’re making progress toward another noncombat class. Keep practicing your butchering techniques to gain more insight.***

  The message served to remind him he had yet to get credit for “dealing with the airborne invasion of the settlement.” He wondered if it was because he hadn’t moved the System node to a safe location, but he also wondered if there was more to the threat—something beyond the harpies.

  As he rinsed his knife in a nearby puddle, he turned to Lyta and asked, “Have you or your people noticed anyone else up on the mesa?”

  She nodded. “More of your people.”

  Andy narrowed his eyes. “My people?”

  “Yes, land-lopers. They huddled together near the falls in a shelter of metal and wood.”

  “Um, how many?”

  Lyta held up four claw-tipped fingers. “Nearly a full talon.”

  Andy nodded, gesturing to the larger of the two piles of meat. “As we agreed, you and your people can have that meat. I’ll take my portion back to the underground, but then I’ll return to deal with those other, um, land-lopers. They may not be friendly, so you should keep your distance.”

  Before he’d even finished speaking, the harpies fell on the pile of meat, each grabbing a hunk and then retreating to the branches of nearby trees to eat. They were gone in seconds, leaving only Lyta and a large portion of meat. She stooped to pick it up, saying, “We will avoid the other land-lopers, and we will leave when the rain is done.” She paused and pointed to the bloody bones and offal—all that remained of the bird carcass. “And the rest?”

  Andy couldn’t help noticing the way her tongue slipped between her sharp teeth to lick her lips. “All yours.”

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  Lyta grinned, once again baring those teeth. Then, she spread her big, black-feathered wings and, with a running start, launched herself into the air, flying toward another nearby tree.

  Andy stooped to grab the base of the branch on which he’d piled his share of the butchered Thunderbird; then, dragging it, he made his way back to the hatch. He was ten yards away when it flew open and Omar jumped out, crouching low, his magical mace held in one hand.

  “We were getting worried,” the wolf-eyed man whispered hoarsely.

  Andy moved closer, dragging his burden, leaving a wake in the standing water as he shielded his eyes against the rain. “Things are looking up, but we have one more thing to take care of. I’ll want you and Lucy to come along—at least.” With a final heave, he pulled the springy branch up onto the platform. “First, help me get this meat down below.”

  Of course, his “quick” trip back to the tunnels took a lot longer than Andy would have liked. Everyone had questions—about the meat, about the harpies, about the quest, and about the other “land-lopers” they still needed to confront. As he responded as best he could, Andy gave the feathers to James, and several others carried the meat back to the main cavern; apparently they were going to smoke it.

  When most of the crowd had dispersed, Andy looked around at the people left in the tunnel and said, “Well? Should we go see what these people want?”

  “I just hope they aren’t remnants of the old Construction City crew,” Omar muttered.

  “I want to come, Andy,” Jace said, his crimson face pushing forward out of the shadowy tunnel.

  Andy shrugged. “I don’t see why not. I figure if they’re hostile, we might avoid violence if they see we have them outnumbered.”

  In the end, Bella, Jace, Bea, Lucy, and Omar joined Andy as he climbed out into the rain again. Now that he didn’t have to worry about the harpies attacking, Andy was glad for the company. To his amazement, Bea was able to cast a spell that acted like a giant umbrella, directing the rain away from them. More than that, her magical light pushed the gloom away, giving the soaked, overgrown plateau a very different vibe.

  “Damn, Bea,” Andy said, marveling at how the rain seemed to curve away, falling in a curtain about ten feet from where Bea stood. “I could’ve used you the first time I came out here.”

  Bea smiled, but she shook her head. “Well, I still think you should scout out the other intruders. I mean, can you really count on those harpies to have an accurate count? What if there are several groups of them?”

  Lucy nodded, agreeing. “We’ll all go to the park, but then you should just sneak ahead and get a look at them.”

  “But come back and get us after you know what’s up,” Bella added.

  Andy was a little surprised that they weren’t insisting on staying close to him while he scouted. Was it trust, or fear, or just that they were being practical? “Okay, this way.” He led them to the park, moving at a slow, steady pace so they didn’t alarm the harpies lingering in the trees near the clearing. He pointed them out to Omar, but the others couldn’t see much beyond the pool of Bea’s light. At the old dog park, he pointed to the node. “Just hang out there. I’ll come fill you in after I have a look.”

  He watched as Bea led the others to the faintly glowing orb—much dimmer in the face of Bea’s blazing staff—then he hopped the little chain-link fence and hurried toward the corner of the park, marveling at the fact that not a single trailer remained along the way. He struggled to believe the wind had been blowing hard enough to peel all the structures off the top of the mesa. If it had been so harsh, why had all the new trees survived? Had they grown after the wind died down? Was it just a coincidence of lucky timing? He didn’t think so. The System had to be involved—that, or he’d have to settle for “magic” as the explanation.

  The trees thinned out as he moved away from the dog park, and soon he was standing against a trunk, ensconced in his Cloak of Shifting Smoke, peering toward the spring. When they’d chosen that location, it had been in the shadow of a large palo verde tree. Andy was happy to see that it was still there, and though it was no longer the largest on the mesa, it was still a big, beautiful tree. When he saw the structure against the base of its trunk, at first he thought it was a trailer blown there by the storm. A closer look proved he was very wrong.

  The structure was built with long, dark timbers and spans of copper-colored metal that created curves that, when he ignored the smashed front end, made it look more like a ship than a trailer. He saw porthole-style windows made of colored glass, and, stranger still, the broken stumps of what might have been wings. “Is that a damned airplane?”

  “Airship,” said a high-pitched voice above his head. Andy leaped back, brandishing his spear. The voice giggled, and then a slight figure dropped from the branches of the magical mesquite. At first, Andy thought it was a boy, but then he noticed the beard and pointed ears, and he realized he wasn’t dealing with a human.

  “Hello,” the man said, bowing and doffing his leather cap before quickly replacing it, wrinkling his nose as he peered up into the rain. “Damned storm’s making my life miserable.” He grinned, winking an oversized, pale green eye. “Don’t feel offended that I saw through your spell; I’ve a knack for such things.”

  Andy hadn’t felt any sort of tingle from the translation necklace, and the man’s lips matched the words he was saying. He was speaking English. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Enthian. Who are you?”

  “I’m Andy.” He gestured toward the wrecked airship with his spear. “Yours, I take it?”

  “Aye, that’ll be mine. Well, mine and my clan’s. The damned storm was fierce—hit both sides of the veil, and we weren’t ready for it. Blew us right through, and—Bearded Mistress!—suddenly this damned mountain was in front of us. How is there a mountain here but not on the other side?”

  “Other side?”

  “Of the veil! The Otherworld? Mag Mell?” When Andy stared at him blankly, he chuckled. “Oof, you’d think you humans would have more of a clue now that the damnable System is here. You can put the spear down; we don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Are you saying you’re a fairy?”

  “Hah!” The little man slapped his knee, shaking his head. “Haha!” He took his hat off, scratched his curly red hair, and then put it back on. “I’m a Lurikeen, but I guess you could say we’re a kind of fairy folk—fae is more proper and what we prefer.”

  Andy looked past him to the downed ship. “Your clan is in there?”

  “Some of them. Some are exploring the area. The mana’s rich here. The trees are intriguing, too; have you tasted their fruit?”

  Andy shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Well, relax, Andy. We don’t mean you any harm. Once we fix our ship, we’ll be on our way.” He grinned and gestured back the way Andy had come. “In the meantime, maybe you could introduce your friends back there. I’m sure we could work out a trade for some wood and supplies.”