Flight of the Golden Harpy (20 page)

“If people knew that the female harpies looked like women and our males were innocent, the hunting would stop.”

“No, it would not end,” he said. “Many hunters and some humans know the truth, but the death continues. If all knew of our female harpies, they could not hide in safety. They would become slaves or worse. The female harpies are the true guardians and protectors of our race. We males only hope to stay alive long enough to plant our seed and protect the male fledglings until they can survive on their own.”

Kari sat down on a rock, absorbing all his information. She glanced up at him. “Tell me about my father, Shail. Did he know that his wife was a harpy?”

Shail joined her. “Turner knew her nature, and knew you were promised to me. At your birth, your mother told him. Turner rejected the harpy bond, claiming you would be raised human, and have a man mate. Your mother faced a terrible decision. Stay with Turner whom she loved or leave him and return with her daughter to the jungle, securing the golden bloodline. My father met with your mother, hoping to sway her to leave. They died at that meeting, and the harpy decision of your fate died with them. The harpies grew concerned that you were being raised human and losing all contact with your race. They started coming to you at the lake, so you would know and not fear them. I then came to see my future mate. You know how the encounter ended. Turner sent you to the stars, hoping you would find a man and I, another female. For many seasons I flew the length of this land, searching for you. For me, there could be no other. We are the last, Kari, the last goldens. I love you, but I also was bound to produce a pure golden heir for the flock.”

Kari breathed deeply. “Everything makes sense now.”

“This knowledge you are harpy. Does it displease you?”

“No. It’s made me whole.” She smiled. “I know exactly where I belong, and it’s next to you.”

Shail kissed her and she filled with true contentment.

*   *   *

It was afternoon, Kari was hungry, and Shail was famished. They strolled into the jungle in search of food. Shail scaled the tree trunks and dropped fruit into Kari’s arms. They returned to the steam and nest to eat. “I guess we should be moving on,” she said.

“When dark comes. To move about in light can bring attention to searching eyes. I have no regrets about bonding here, but we have lost time and distance from the cabin. We must travel quickly.”

Kari nodded, confirming the complete role reversal. She initially ruled their relationship and made all the decisions, treating Shail like a child. She watched him nibble on the fruit. He had become so much more; a guardian, a mentor, a husband. His knowledge of the jungle and survival exceeded hers, and with the bond, she gave up her authority, making him the dominant mate who would sacrifice himself to protect her. He broke off a piece of fruit and gently placed it in her mouth. She happily yielded her independence to her noble male.

After eating, they curled up in the nest to sleep and wait for night. A few hours passed, and Shail jerked his head up and nervously sniffed the air. The scent confirmed his worse fears. He leaped to his feet, waking Kari and tiptoed to the cliff ledge. He sniffed at the wind that rose from below. Kari saw the fear in his eyes.

“A danger draws near. We must flee quickly and quietly.” Walking to the stream, he beckoned to her. “We stay in the water on the rocks, for it leaves no trail.”

She grabbed the small sack and rushed to him. “What is it?”

“The scent of men rides the wind,” he said with worry.

She understood. Only hunters could terrify him. They followed the stream upward into the mountain, careful to step on solid stones, leaving no footprints. Shail stopped, stepped from the meandering stream, and walked to a high cliff. He scanned the lush valley as the light faded. The ocean horizon was orange atop green. The wind blew against his youthful, regal face, and he tossed his hair and seethed.

“You see them?” she asked, walking alongside and detecting his aversion.

He pointed to a place halfway up the valley. “There,” he said. “They come to our bonding nest. We must travel fast in the dark. They know a fresh harpy nest and that we are close. They will retrieve their hovercraft.”

Kari caught her breath from the rapid climb and looked hard into the trees. She finally made out tiny figures moving about in the dense foliage. “Why didn’t they use their hover now?”

“Smart hunters know a harpy can see and hear a hover from far away and easily avoid it. These found our trail from the cabin and hoped to surprise us. This is how many harpies are killed. Had the wind not shifted, I would not have smelled them. I would now be their trophy. For you, the fate is unclear. Some hunters release the females, knowing you provide offspring and more game. Others are cruel to our females. Their fate is worse than death.” He looked at her. “You are ready now?”

She realized Shail had only stopped to give her a brief break. “Yes. Let’s go.”

“We leave the water and travel this hard ridge,” Shail said. “It shall be easier and faster for you. The round moons come out this night. You shall see well.”

Kari followed him on to the ledge, hurrying to keep up with his long stride. They reached a summit and started their descent down the other side. A cold, harsh wind blasted them on the open ledge.

Shail turned and saw Kari’s arms wrapped about her. “We leave this and go to the covered trees. It shall be warmer.”

She glanced up. She was beginning to sense his mind as he sensed hers, and she felt his concern. “It’s warmer, but not faster. I’m okay. Let’s stay on this trail.”

Shail wrapped his good wing around her. “You fear, but not for yourself. Though I cannot fly, they shall not catch us.” They continued on the rocky trail, making good time, and Kari’s vision adjusted to the moonlight. At steep inclines, Shail stopped and helped her ascend them. She watched him spring from ledge to ledge with the grace of a bird, and if alone, he could swiftly cover the ground.

He caught her thoughts. “You do not hinder me, but complete my life. Do not worry so, my love. The danger has past. Men fear to travel the night winds into the mountains.”

Kari smiled, looking into his shimmering eyes as the strong breeze whipped at his glossy hair.

*   *   *

At dawn the golden pair descended into a small valley. Ahead lay the steepest and most dangerous mountains in the range. The morning light reflected off the giant black peaks that crested above all plant life. They walked on the forest floor beneath the enormous trees, thousands of years old, and Kari felt humbled in the giants’ presence. These were the trees her grandfather had protected. The pair came to a pool formed between rocks, and Shail stopped. “We shall rest here,” he relayed. “The hard rock left no trace of our coming and the tall tree cover shields us. It would be difficult for a hover to land.”

“I’m so proud and amazed with you,” she said. “The more you relate with the English words, the more you sound like a human.”

He shuddered. “I am unsure if this is good or bad. I shall seek food.” He vanished into the trees. Kari knelt by the pond, cupping the water in her hands and taking a drink. She coiled up, exhausted from the bonding and the foot travel, not noticing the fearless colorful birds that hopped from branch to branch over her head. Like Shail, the animals instinctively knew she was a harpy.

*   *   *

Shail returned with two large roots that dripped with a sticky substance. He walked passed Kari, who slept. Using a rock, he broke the brown root open and began eating the pale orange contents running with yellow syrup. Having his fill, he crawled next to her, covering her with a wing, as she continued to doze. He rested quietly, but remained awake. His enemies were a safe distance away, but he couldn’t afford to sleep. During the daylight hours, the hunters would search hard for him, especially if they had knowledge of his broken wing. Despite his comforting words to Kari, he remained alert and on edge. The truth of the hunt would only worry and terrify her. This distress he had faced all his life.

After several hours, Shail nuzzled her awake. “We go now and put this valley behind us. We must reach the next mountain ridge. There are few trees and we must cross it under the cover of darkness.” She sluggishly got up and dragged her limbs forward. “Eat this root,” he relayed. “It shall give you strength.”

Kari munched on the sweet orange pulp, licking her sticky fingers and tagging along behind Shail. He swiftly moved through the valley, hoping to reach the mountain base and scale the barren ridges at night. After an hour, Kari did feel a renewed stamina. She effortlessly glided around the trees, following her husband.

They came upon a large herd of zels. The deer-size plant eaters momentarily watched the two harpies, but went back to grazing. Kari nearly bumped into Shail when he froze. He raised his head and tilted it to one side. She saw the zels do the same. Every head was lifted toward the sky, eyes alert, ears rapidly twitching. “Come quickly,” he said, and the zels scattered, seeking the tree cover. “A hover comes. We hide among the animals and lie on the ground as they do.” Shail leaped through the underbrush, and Kari raced after him. Reaching two does and their fawns, he stopped and slowly extended his hand so they could smell him. He curled up alongside the zels and motioned Kari in.

She lay under Shail’s wing and watched the shivering zels, who seemed to seek the male harpy’s body for protection. She heard the approaching hovercraft. It moved directly overhead and stopped, obviously detecting the heat from the large herd.

Shail saw the fear in the largest zel’s eyes, probably contemplating fleeing with her young. He reached over, making a faint sizzling sound, and gently petted her rust-colored head, encouraging her to stay. If the zels left, he and his mate would be exposed. Through Shail’s feathers, Kari glanced up at the stationary hover. Part of the herd unnerved, broke and ran. The hover moved off, following them up the valley.

“These are good hunters,” he relayed. “They guess the direction we go.”

“Yes, they’re good. That was my father’s hovercraft.”

“It proves his love of you,” he said, standing.

“Or hate for you.” She rose with the zels, who went back to grazing. “How did you know to hide by the animals to avoid the heat-seeking device?”

“I do not know these words.”

“Your body gives off heat, and a heat-seeking device can see you despite the trees. This machine is mounted in all hunting hovers.”

“I now understand this false sight,” he relayed. “We learned the hovercrafts see all, but animal bodies confuse these hovers. A fledgling cannot out-fly the hovercrafts so they are taught to seek the cover of animals.”

“Harpies learn quickly,” she said.

“We all learn or die. We shall stay near the animals.”

Like a collie herding sheep, Shail coaxed the zel herd in the direction he wished to travel. Reaching the base of the mountain, they left the zels with approach of night. The first half of the mountain was an easy upward walk, but the higher they went, the more difficult the climb. Kari stayed close to Shail, knowing his night vision was like a cat’s. He came to a halt and stared off toward the valleys. Kari came alongside, happy to catch her breath. “He still searches for you,” he relayed.

Kari sensed the pity in his silent voice. Off in the distance she saw the hover lights investigating the valleys. “Why can’t he leave me alone? Doesn’t he understand I want to be with you?”

“He is a father.” He turned away and traversed a rocky cliff.

Kari sighed, watching the distant lights disappear over a crest before she moved on.

As Shail climbed in the dark, he was regretting his decision to send the fledgling to the safe islands. Had he known Turner chased them, and the man would be so persistent, he would have sent the fledgling for Aron. The harpies would have flown him and his mate out of the man’s reach, but Shail believed the hover belonged to a typical hunter, one he could easily outwit. The forests were now absent of harpies because all were needed for the evacuation to the islands. He and his mate were on their own. His only consoling thought was that if caught by Turner, he would die, but Kari would be safe.

Shail glanced over his shoulder and saw the hover light scaling an outlying crest. Turner faced the strong mountain winds at night. No hunter would risk this danger. The powerful gusts could slam a craft into the dark mountainsides. He knows harpies and that we travel at night in the open, he thought, realizing the sanctuary of the wind, rock, and darkness was lost against Turner. Shail’s eyes frequently shifted to the lights, tracing their movement, and hoping they did not come. With no shelter, he undoubtedly would be picked off by a weapon. Though Shail feared Turner, he respected Kari’s father and his courage. He endangers his life for his daughter, but does he know I, too, would die for her?

Shail heard small pebbles falling. He sprang off the crest and landed beside Kari, who scrambled to her feet. “Are you hurt?” he asked, helping her up.

“I tripped. I’m fine.”

“You become weak with this pursuit. We stop and rest.”

She glanced at the barren stone and small bushes. “We can’t stop here. You’ve seen the lights. My father is stubborn. He’ll search all night.”

“Yes, he faces great hazards for you,” he said, “and you travel these dangerous cliffs for me. Maybe it is best I build a fire and let him find you. I could release you from our bond, and you would be safe in the human world. Our fledgling is uncertain.”

Kari sat down on a rock, lowering her head. “I slow your escape. If I returned, Dad would stop the hunt and we’d all be safe. But I don’t want to leave you.”

Shail reached down and lifted her chin. “I fear for you and you for me, but Kari, with or without you, this is my life. I shall always know the hunt.”

Kari stood and hugged him. “Please don’t make me go.”

Shail held her and stared up at the stars. “Life is a journey and we know not where it leads. We shall travel the journey together and honor our bond. The flight may be short, but loved. Let us leave now.”