Flight of the Golden Harpy Read online

  Doc smiled. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  “Not better, just more in control,” she said.

  “The antidepressant patch on your arm is helping you keep that control,” Doc said. “There’s more in your room, and I want you to put one on your arm daily.”

  “I will as long as there’s a chance Shail is alive.”

  Doc patted her arm. “I’m betting he’s still with us. He’s like an ornery little cat with nine lives and should’ve died on my operating table. He’s a scrapper and has outmaneuvered hunters for years. I pity those men who got him.”

  “I learned he did fight with those men, but his defiance may have drawbacks.” Kari turned to Charlie. “I had a disc in my pocket, but it must’ve fallen out. Did you see it in the hover, Charlie?”

  John spoke before Charlie responded. “We found it and played it last night. Dr. Watkins was here, and he and the disc are on their way to Hampton. It’s an extraordinary captain’s log. In the right hands, it could bring an end to harpy hunting.”

  Kari leaned back in her chair. “I thought so, too, but Shail didn’t place much faith in it.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Even when people know we carry human blood, they still hunt harpies. Like you, Dad, you killed Shail’s father and wanted to kill him.”

  “Don’t compare me with those lousy harpy hunters who kill for profit,” John said. “I’d kill a harpy or a man if they were a threat to you or your mother.” He shook his head. “Turns out I’m the biggest threat to my loved ones.”

  “John, stop beating yourself up,” Doc said. “For twenty years you’ve lived with regret over your wife. Are you gonna waste another twenty if her harpy dies? The fact is you didn’t want either one of them dead, but accidents and mistakes happen in life.” Doc turned to Kari. “And you, young lady, give your father a break. After all, he’s only human.”

  * * *

  The dawn broke over the eastern jungle, and rather than glide cautiously through the trees, Aron rapidly flew above the canopy in the dangerous open sky. Shail’s life and the future of the harpies rested on Aron’s wings. According to the fledgling, the men had shot Shail and bound him with ropes. Aron knew a dead harpy would not need to be tied, and the news gave him hope that Shail was taken alive, but time was against the young golden. Although Shail was resilient and courageous, he wouldn’t live long in the hands of hunters.

  Two hours into his flight, Aron’s haste nearly caused his own demise. Hearing laser weapons, he had little time to evade or hide. The blasts zipped past his head and wings. He had inadvertently flown over a pack of hunters. He dipped and staggered his flight, but one blast tore through his brown feathers, barely missing the bone and muscle.

  Fearing more hunters lay ahead, he automatically faked an injury and let his limp body tumble end over end until he crashed through the branches. Halfway through the tree cover, he righted himself, fluttered, and grabbed a tree trunk. Clinging to the bark, he tightly folded in his wings and listened. The hunters excitedly called to one another in their search for the downed harpy. Aron gained a sense of each man’s location; their cheerful voices echoed through the dense vegetation. After pinpointing each man, he left the trunk and sailed toward the forest floor, and a few feet off the ground, he navigated around the trees. Several miles later and past the danger, he flew up to the treetops and resumed his high-speed flight. The hunters would spend hours combing the area of his descent, vainly looking for his maimed body.

  Aron reached the expansive river and followed its flow south. The river marked the divide between the outback frontier and the more human-populated east. He soared above the banks, close to the protective trees, and eventually reached a vast marshland. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the saw grass wetland left little for concealment, and a hunter, boat, or hovercraft could easily be spotted before a weapon strike. The marsh was a safe haven for river flocks.

  Before starting the twenty-mile journey across the watery flatland, Aron fluttered and pulled up a few of the purple water plants. Chewing on the yellow fleshy root for stamina, he continued his quest to the southeast. In the distance he saw the island’s blue and red trees rising amid boundless purple swamp. Secure and detached from humans, Shail had chosen this central place for the harpy gathering.

  Aron reached the island, and flying above the trees, he looked down at a multitude of male harpies. Some were curled up in trees and others milled around on the ground, all waiting for Shail’s arrival. Aron recognized some members of his flock and landed among them. Their eyes held a question: Where was Shail?

  Aron walked to the center of the gathering and was surrounded by numerous unfamiliar flocks. He sniffled and flapped his wings to get their attention.

  “I am Aron, flock leader of the islands and northwestern shores. I come bearing ill news of our golden ruler. He has fallen to hunters, and his fate is unknown.” His message sent a silent rumble of concern through the large group. Several males moved toward him, their reigning position obvious as the other harpies submissively lowered their heads, and gave them a wide berth.

  “We shall continue to hold the swarms west of the river,” Aron relayed, “and defend the outback towns, allowing innocent humans to flee. Only hunters and their dwellings face the beetle attack. These are the golden’s wishes. All here must seek our golden ruler and learn his whereabouts. The gathering is over until he is found.”

  A flock leader moved closer to Aron. “Unless my eyes deceive me, your wings are brown, yet you order us like they were gold. Why should we yield to a young brown that lacks the wing length that proves cunning?”

  Aron expected a challenge. He glanced at the other flock leaders and knew they were bidding their turn to bring him down. How many would he have to fight after this one?

  This day could mark the beginning of chaos among the flocks if Shail was lost, or left no heir. Brown would fight brown for leadership, causing weakness and divide among the harpies. Decades ago, only the goldens fought one another for flock rule, and the browns acknowledged and submitted to the winner and new ruler. Shail came into power by default, all his golden equals were dead by the time he had reached maturity.

  “The golden shared my nest and I know his wishes,” Aron relayed. “You shall yield to me or know your blood.” Aron looked at the other males. “I challenge all, but my defeat comes only at the silence of my heart.”

  A contest to the death was unheard of by the passive harpies. Most minor skirmishes were over a female or rule of an individual flock. And rarely were harpies injured, much less killed, but Aron meant business. To save Shail and protect his golden mate and fledgling from swarms, he put his life on the line.

  The male hissed and stepped toward Aron, beginning the challenge. Aron obstinately flung his hair, teasing his opponent while he moved out of striking distance. Fighting like birds, the two moved in a circular motion around one another, extending their wings, ruffling feathers, and tossing their locks. The other harpies left the trees and the massed group closed in to watch the combat between Aron and the male. The flock leader flapped his wings, becoming airborne and flew at Aron, hoping to swiftly end the fight with a powerful kick. Aron lifted a few feet off the ground. Using his feet, he struck back, and a lucky kick connected against the male’s face. They both landed and paced again.

  The large male wiped his bloodied nose with his wrist and seethed at Aron. In a minute they fluttered, exchanging more foot blows. Having no time for a showdown, Aron flew straight into the male’s striking feet and hammered his rival with his fists, wings, and feet. Caught off guard by Aron’s full-fledged attack, the male fluttered backward. A hard hit to the male’s testicles finished the fight. The male dropped to the ground, coughed and curled up in defeat, lowering his eyes to Aron.

  Aron landed and glared at the others. He realized he had been reared with an advantage; that advantage was a young golden harpy. As teenagers, he and Shail partook in mock male challenges. Though five seasons younger and sm
aller, Shail would ignore his pain and blindly fly into Aron’s striking feet. He’d relentlessly attack until Aron yielded.

  Another flock leader stepped from the crowd. “So you are Aron of the west? I am Seth and rule the eastern shore, and you shall cower to me.”

  Aron quickly sized up Seth. The eastern flock leader was formidable, and his mere presence would cause panic in most males. His paling brown feathers told his age: late thirties or early forties. His massive frame was taller and heavier than Aron’s. Aron remained undaunted, arching his dark wings and standing his ground with his head held high. Seth sniffled, and his posturing and strut were meant to intimidate, but Aron refused to flinch under pressure. Seth didn’t bother with the customary circling to analyze and search for a weakness in an adversary. The big male knew he was good. With a flip of his hair, he flew at Aron. Aron ducked and rolled, but was instantly in the air, sending a powerful kick into Seth’s stomach. They landed out of range of one another and glared.

  “Come, Seth. Come fight me,” Aron relayed. “My golden brother taught me well.”

  Seth lowered his wings, staring at the young leader. “To challenge me, you are either crazy or cocky like a golden. Perhaps our ruler was indeed your nest brother. To lower your head would take a beating close to death, and I choose not to maim and crush such bravery.” Seth turned to the harpy crowd. “The challenge is over. We shall heed Aron’s wishes for one more light and search for our golden ruler while holding back the swarms.” Seth turned to Aron. “If the golden is not found, he is surely dead, for no harpy can survive hunters this long. We shall end the search of him and leave the swarms, allowing the humans to suffer their just destiny. I shall not risk my males’ lives for these cruel creatures, when I must return to the east and defend my family.”

  “Our golden ruler can survive, for he has already done so,” relayed Aron. “I shall return to the gathering the following light and hope he is found. I now defend his golden mate and unborn fledgling.” Aron walked to his western flock. They nuzzled him while he stared skyward at a cloud made of two thousand pairs of departing wings. A massive search for the golden ruler had begun.

  “We must find Shail,” Aron relayed to his males. “If unfound, we shall all perish under the swarms.” They took flight, joining the other harpies, and he spread his wings and flew toward the west coast and Kari.

  In the late afternoon, dark clouds gathered and thunderstorms rolled in. The stinging rain hit Aron’s face. He lowered his head, allowing his long hair to protect his eyes. Although the rainstorm was an annoyance, he felt more secure, because the feeble humans sought shelter from the sky water and rarely hunted. He beat his wings and pressed on, knowing it would be dark when he reached Turner’s home.

  * * *

  John, Charlie, Doc, and Kari loaded up in John’s hovercraft. They stopped at the mill, and Doc took the extra hover back to Westend. They proceeded with the one-hundred-mile northern journey along the coast. The day was overcast, but when they landed on the beach near the cabin, Charlie was relieved to see dry ground. “It did not rain here. We might discover signs of what happened.”

  Kari hurried up the path to the small cabin and entered its door. She bent down and touched the unoccupied floor where she had last seen Shail’s fallen body. Fighting back the tears, she glanced around the place they had first shared. On the counter sat the plastic cup Shail had initially refused to touch, and alongside it was the solar light, its switch becoming his toy. She stood up and moved to the bed where he wrapped her in his arms and wings at night. Sitting on the sheets, she sniffed the pillows, and his sweet scent still lingered. She noticed her father watching from the doorway. He lowered his head and looked down.

  “Come,” Charlie said from the outside. “The tracks show where they dragged him to the beach where the hover set down.” They followed Charlie to the beach. “Here they dropped in the sand, and look at the deep struggle marks. The harpy fought them, but there is no blood. They must have stunned him again.”

  Looking at the scenario, John rubbed his chin. “Those boys wanted him alive, but why?”

  Kari pulled a small yellow feather out of the sand. “For two days, Carol’s boyfriend Jake kept Shail alive and planned to hang and torture him elsewhere.”

  “These men weren’t hunters like Jake and won’t bother hanging a harpy,” John said. “They were only interested in money. If they wanted his wings, they would have cut them off in the cabin and carried half the load to the hover, plus they ended up fighting with Shail. To put up with that, they definitely wanted him alive.”

  “I believe you are right, John,” Charlie said, examining the deep grooves in the sand. “They’d be angry after such a battle, yet they spared him. They could have easily hidden the wings and come back later, but they now also face charges for the hover theft. The harpy was worth more alive.”

  “Let’s head back,” John said. “Perhaps the authorities have located my missing hover.” As they loaded up into the hover, it began to rain. The daily afternoon thunderstorms were part of Dora’s wet season. The strong gusts rocked the hovercraft, and the blinding showers created a rough ride home. John finally landed the craft in the front yard and relaxed for the first time in his seat while killing the engine. “I hate flying at this time of the year.”

  They unloaded and made a dash for the house. The storms would continue the rest of the day. John and Kari went to the den, and John placed a call to Terrance.

  “No, Mr. Turner,” said an officer. “Nothing on your hover, but Terrance is pretty shut down due to the swarms. Most people are leaving for Hampton, and the commercial flights have been booked, and tomorrow is the last run. Don’t want to take the chance of setting down during a swarm attack. Those men are probably on their way to Hampton in your hover. I’d advise you to contact the Hampton authorities and check the off-planet flights.”

  “Taking a small hover cross continent during the wet season is risky, and it doesn’t have the range,” John said.

  “People are growing desperate,” the officer said. “They’re traveling in small hovers, vehicles, anything that will take them over the river and out of the western outback. This morning twenty-three hunters were killed in a big camp thirty miles south, and it’s created a panic. As far as your harpy, most don’t live long in captivity, but we could possibly recover his wings.”

  John glanced up at Kari. “The harpy doesn’t fear cages so he’d still be alive. Thank you, Officer. I’d appreciate it if you keep me posted.” He hit the disconnect key and the transmission ended.

  “I’m going up to my room,” Kari said.

  “All right, dear. If I learn anything, I’ll come and get you.”

  * * *

  Kari walked into her room and discovered Maria had locked the balcony doors either to keep rain or male harpies out. Kari unlocked them and pushed them open, then crawled into bed. She lay curled up, grasping the yellow feather, and watched the rain splatter on the floor. Maybe Shail will come in my dreams, she thought, closing her eyes.

  She woke to the sound of the balcony doors closing and saw her father.

  “No, I want them open. Aron will be back.”

  John opened the doors again. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, and I’ll wake you for dinner.”

  Her father left, and Kari shut her eyes, feeling the familiar depression she had suffered and fought on Earth, but this time it was close to crippling. Without Shail, she barely had energy to move. She managed to maintain with the help of the antidepressant patches. Shail hadn’t come in her dreams, causing her more concern. Was he dead? She reached over and replaced the patch with a new one. “I must stay well. I can’t help him like this.”

  Hours passed, and her father woke her for dinner. She went downstairs but didn’t stay. She took some fruit back to her room and saw Aron set down on the balcony. He breathed hard and his wings and body were drenched. Apparently he had traveled a great distance. He shook his hair and ruffled his fea
thers before stepping into the bedroom. His green eyes held a foreboding gaze. “Shail is not found,” he relayed, “and the harpies fear the worst.”

  She put her arms around his muscular streamlined body. “We can’t give up, Aron.” She sensed he equally grieved Shail’s loss. They settled on the floor, and Kari gave him her fruit dinner. Watching the wailing rain drift across the meadow through the open doorway, Kari curled up in his secure arms under the brown wing. Though not her mate, Aron relieved her tension and anguish.

  John looked into Kari’s bedroom before going to bed. In the balcony doorway she slept on the floor with the male harpy wrapped around her. His brown wing shielded her from the wind, cold, and mist. The harpy raised his head and glared, but no longer hissed.

  “She’s not mine anymore, is she?” John said quietly before closing the door. Only her promise to Shail kept her in his house.

  * * *

  The first rays of dawn filtered into the bedroom, and Kari felt Aron nudge her cheek with his nose. She opened her eyes and smiled, seeing he still lay beside her.

  “I must go and learn if there is news of Shail,” he relayed. “I do not wish you more worry, but if Shail is lost, all life might also be lost. The time approaches where you must consider the safety of the stars. Your father knows the way.”

  Kari climbed out of his arms and stood up. “What do you mean, Aron?”

  “Without a golden ruler, the harpies follow none. The flocks shall divide, each male seeking his family in the mountains or islands while the swarms grow too numerous to destroy. Already Shail’s wishes fall under question. The attack on the human towns draws near. By the rise of next round moon, the swarms shall own the land, and you must be in the stars.”

  Kari sat down on the bed. “I thought that with or without Shail the harpies would eliminate the swarms.”

  Aron shook his head. “A harpy might destroy one swarm that threatens his family, but a mass attack on all beetles requires the leadership of a golden male. The harpies now struggle to hold the beetles in the jungle, and Shail’s desire to save the women and children is but a dream. The beetles are drawn to the smell of wooden towns and human flesh. They soon shall cross the river and attack the cities. Those humans who failed to reach the stars shall be the first to die, then the trees, animals, and us. I must fly to the river. I do not know when I return.”