Flight of the Golden Harpy (31 page)

The harpy sniffled and tilted his head.

John shut the door. For the first time he was grateful to have a male harpy in his home.

*   *   *

Early next morning, Maria entered the Turner home through the kitchen. She hurried to the stairs, eager to see if Kari was all right. Opening the bedroom door, she saw Kari sleeping on her bed, and then noticed the tall male harpy standing in the balcony doorway. She screamed, and the gutsy thing arched its wings and hissed at her. She slammed the door and raced down the hall to Mr. Turner’s room. “Mr. Turner! Mr. Turner!”

John climbed out of bed and opened his door to the hysterical housekeeper. “What is it?”

“There’s a horrible giant harpy in Miss Kari’s room!” she shrieked.

“Calm down, Maria. I know he’s there. He won’t hurt her.”

Maria looked up at him. “Is Miss Kari really a harpy?”

“She’s half harpy. Now go down stairs and fix breakfast and make sure there’s plenty of fruit. I have a feeling we’ll need it. Doc also spent the night.”

“Okay, Mr. Turner. I hope I don’t have to feed the harpy.” She shuddered and scurried past Kari’s door and went downstairs.

John dressed and went to Kari’s room. He knocked lightly on the door.

“Yes?” Kari answered.

John opened the door and saw the male harpy had gone. “I hope Maria didn’t scare your friend away.”

“No, he’s gone to find out if the harpies found Shail. If he’s dead, I’ll never forgive what you’ve done.” She glared. “You didn’t kill him, but it’s your fault those men have him. I’m only here to honor Shail’s wishes.” Every one of her words smoldered with hostility.

John eased into a chair. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. If he dies, I won’t forgive myself. I stunned him and brought you home, thinking I could convince you to leave him, or maybe I needed time to convince myself. I’m so sorry, Kari. I swear I didn’t want him harmed.”

Kari rose from the bed, distancing herself from him and gazed out the balcony. “I find that hard to believe. You had every intention of killing him. You changed your mind and let your men do your dirty work so you’d be blameless. You’re sorry now because I became sick.”

“Kari, that’s not true. You should know I’d never let some flunkies do my dirty work. I did plan to kill Shail, but he dropped to his knees, and…”

Kari whirled around, facing him. “Shail would never beg for his life.”

“He didn’t beg. He accepted his death, and Jesus, he was so impressive. He was only concerned about you and his son. He’s everything a man, a husband should be. How could I kill him?”

“Perhaps you’re telling the truth. He’s not afraid to die, but would be worried about his family. At the cabin I told him to fly away, but he stayed, fearing a laser blast might hit me. Strangely, Dad, he respected you. I despised you when you chased us through the mountains, but Shail saw you as a protective parent. I love him so much. If he’s dead…” She sat down on the bed, putting her face in her hands, hiding tears.

John rose from the chair, sat on the bed alongside her, and took her into his arms. “Oh, baby, I know you don’t want my advice, but I know your pain. When your mother died, I had to remind myself every day that I was lucky; lucky I’d had her even for a short time, and you were lucky to find Shail. They left us with an irreplaceable gift that makes life worth living. Your mother gave me you, and soon you’ll have a son; a son Shail was willing to die for. If he’s dead, don’t deny him his last wish. Live for his boy.”

Kari sniffled and wiped away a tear. “Shail must’ve known that something might happen to him. He told me to draw from my human strength and survive for our fledgling, but it’s hard. I feel so empty, it hurts, and I can hardly breathe.”

John took ahold of her shoulders and forced a grin. “Let’s be positive that he’s okay. We’ll eat breakfast and then fly back to the cabin. Charlie is good at finding clues. I contacted the police last night, and they’re looking for those two men and Shail, plus the harpies are searching. If it’s the last thing I do, I promise I’ll find him and bring him back.”

*   *   *

Her father left, and Kari got dressed. Going downstairs, she entered the dining room and found Doc, Charlie, and her father seated at the table. “Hello, Doc,” she said quietly, taking a seat beside him.

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 smaller, 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.”