The Fickle Winds of Autumn

“And now that I’ve answered some of your questions, perhaps you’ll answer some of mine?” said Kira.

She shifted her sitting weight on the uneasy cave floor; its hard chill dug into her, but it was more comfortable than just standing all the time.

“This seems fair,” Harath replied, “and there is often as much to be learnt from the questions of others as the answers they give, yes?”

The lumpy surface of the wall pressed into Kira’s back as she leant against it and rested her elbow on the bars of her cell.

The low dry murmur from the corridor outside was disturbed by a turbulent rushing blast of wind.

Perhaps there was an exit of some kind nearby?

“Some of the others who come to look at me have a very different appearance from you,” she said.

“Yes, they have not eaten the flesh of Graath.” Harath plumped her feathers up to their full size. “They are not queens, as I am.”

“But aren’t you all the same? The Akkipter I mean? Why do you all look so different?”

“The first meat we are given when we hatch decides who we will become, yes? Our outward size, the keenness of our eyes, the strength of our claws - as Skirnam, great God of the Winds, has wished it, when he pulled the lightning down from the skies to make our mountains, yes? And provide shelter and food for us, his most blessed children.”

She blinked in at Kira and scratched her talons softly along the floor.

“Some first taste the mountain hare, yes?” Harath continued. “Their wings are not blessed with grace and air, but they are good workers, yes? They build and clean the aerie. Others are fed the flesh of the hawks and other birds - they are smallest in size, but their eyes are keenest and their talons so sharp - they are swift, fearless hunters. The flesh of the wolves is reserved for our great King, Aquil - only he can digest its rich, dark meat - he sits at the heart of our nest, and will preside over the Observance of Graath.”

Kira’s uneasy innards rippled in nervous apprehension.

Talking was meant to take her mind off the subject of the dreaded ceremony.

Harath tilted her head to one side and peered in at her.

“The wolves are strong and powerful creatures - cunning and ruthless in the hunt, yes? But not even one of the great she-wolves that prowl the foothills below us have ever broken the Gift of Skirnam and awoken before their flesh is eaten. You are the first, Kira - your force of life must be a strong spirit. Perhaps you are a great queen, like me, yes?”

A faint heat rushed to Kira’s cheeks

No-one had ever thought of her as being strong before - and certainly never a queen!

What would Sister Amelia Constance say about such a thing?

But what use would such fanciful nonsense be anyway - if she and her friends were to be eaten in the Observance in a few days’ time?

There it was again - that nagging alarm.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

That painful wriggling anticipation.

She must do something.

She must try and help her friends.

Or at least try to talk about something else.

“But tell me about the ones who look like goats, please,” she said.

“Yes, it is true - many among us have grown into the strength and agility of the mountain goat. Their stamina and nimbleness makes them excellent sentries to endlessly patrol the rushing winds around our nest. There used to be so many goats - the steep slopes were white from their fur, yes? But your hunters came - they did not kill just for their own food, and often took more than they could carry, until the leaping goats became less and less, and your hunters had to climb higher and higher into our mountains.”

“And that’s where you caught them?” asked Kira.

“The hunters, yes, and the merchants who crossed on the mountain path. At first, we took only those humans we needed for the ceremony of Graath - but as the rabbits and goats became less, and the humans became more, some among us hungered for their own chicks to become queens, and so we also began to take more than our need, until slowly, the human hunters too, stopped coming.”

Harath traced her claws slowly across the floor.

“Our aerie once held three or four queens - but no humans have arrived for these past few seasons, and I was the last - until you and your friends arrived - now there can be a new queen again.”

Hadn’t Aldwyn mentioned something about missing travellers on the mountains?

Could Harath’s strange tale be related to that?

Perhaps these fantastical eagle-creatures were the real reason that so many travellers had disappeared, rather than the wolves?

Wasn’t it strange how much more could be learnt from the real world and from listening to others, rather than the drudgery of lessons?

The stories of Harath and Aldwyn and Ellis were so much more interesting and absorbing than anything the scrolls could teach.

Yes - Aldwyn and Ellis.

She must try to help them somehow.

Her thoughts rushed over to her friends.

Their two shadows lay motionless in the dark corner near the back of the cell. Their soft breath was stronger now, more definite and regular.

Perhaps the effects of the drug were wearing off?

The puncture wounds across their shoulders had begun to heal; the blood had matted and congealed into their tunics; it didn’t look nice, but her concerns no longer prickled with the fear that they might bleed to death - but the stabbing dread of being eaten at the looming Observance still consumed her anxious mind.

“So, the ones whose faces resemble goats - they’re the guards for your nest?”

“Yes, they are the guardians of the aerie - their wings are not as fast as others, but they have the endurance to patrol and protect us.”

“But if they are meant to guard you, why are they so rude to you? I mean, a group of them knocked you over and giggled the last time you were here.”

Harath shuffled a timid step back from the cell bars and looked at the ground.

“And aren’t you their queen? Shouldn’t they bow down to you, or be more respectful or something?”

Harath darted up an awkward glance, then studied the floor again.

“And you look much bigger than them, so why didn’t you at least fight back?” Kira persisted.

“I…, I do not remember such an incident,” Harath huffed as she turned and walked off into the gloomy whisper of the shadows, around the corner and out of the cave.