Fleirzon
..........
The bitter wind was edged in ice, stinging like the talons of a falcon; the slate stratus an omen of the torrents that would soon slice the air. Verdeyan thought for a moment of retreating back to the island. The haven of trees was like a beacon, the broad branches of pines and oaks stretching out in the expanse of limbs that she called home. Her wings stroked up, down, up, down, just like a bird’s. All true people had wings; they were the Fleirzon, the dwellers of the sky that flew with hawks, eagles and songbirds.
Verdeyan glimpsed down, thinking of what it would be like to be one of the Hamoiin; creatures of ancient myth, said to dwell in the darkness below the Chamelaen Forests. It was rumored that they had faces like the Fleirzon, although flatter, uglier and crueler with harsh, awful voices. But most of all, they had no wings. The Hamoiin dwelled far down, past the known reaches of the cerulean sky and the branches of the Chamelaen Forests that Verdeyan’s universe was composed of.
Verdeyan shook her head, clearing her mind of the idle myths that she had often listened to. The Hamoiin didn’t exist, she knew, yet she still wondered with a defiance of fact that was by some considered unhealthy for a young woman of fifteen. Now is not time to be fanciful! She chided herself, narrowing her eyes against the wind.
Her hair streamed behind her, knotting in endless tangles as she soared through the clouds, powerful, free, and alive.
…
As the sleet began to fall, it dashed against the dark flier’s cheeks and face. In the distance, he saw the flash of wings. Another Fleirzon. Looking out, he saw pale silver wings and long hair that gleamed like flame; the features of a Sleveten.
Silently, he swooped down, his wings tucked in tight, aiming for the Fleirzon below.
Verdeyan gasped, and swooped downwards as well, seeing the dark form of the Raptein above her. Rapteins were just one of the many Fleirzon tribes, but no tribe was as callous as the Rapteins. Verdeyan had known a girl called Laina who had been captured. Her captor had cut off the tips of her wings and flown away with her, while her friends and relatives watched, helpless against the guard of Raptein warriors that hovered in the way. Now a Raptein was after her. What would become of her?
With the memory of her friend’s fate flaring in her mind, she plummeted twisting herself into a tight spin as she fell. Slevetens were wonderful acrobats, renowned for their grace and speed, but not for their fighting skills. The Rapteins were Spartan in their lifestyles, conquering whatever part of the forest they could. Their all-male scouts were ruthless and precise in fighting and attack. Survivors told stories that made the most fearsome hailstorm seem mild. If one was captured, they were considered lost, thus few knew precisely what happened. Many had disappeared never to be seen again.
As she dropped, she heard the whistle of wings behind her, and knew the Raptein was closing in. In a last resort, she flared out her wings, nearly crying out at the pain of the stopped descent that was like lead in her veins. She wheeled and threw out her feet, the tips of her wooden boots spearing him in the stomach. The Raptein shouted and seized her, with a crushing grip.
Verdeyan struggled, kicking him with her heels, until he pressed a nerve point on her neck, rendering her unconscious. He could’ve dropped her then, but he didn’t. Instead, he extracted a knife from his rucksack, and began to shave off her feathers.
When Verdeyan first came conscious, she was aware of a throbbing in her head and a horrible apprehension. Slowly, as her coherence increased, she remembered what had transpired. Leaving the haven of her home thicket to follow the others that had left her behind in the early morning confusion, shanghaiing her in the open sky. Then the capture came searing back in vivid memory. She screamed in terror, and stood up, her entire body protesting as if her bones were breaking at the sudden movement. She recognized the oasis of a platform built atop a tree, and hurled herself from the edge, and opened her wings. Her muscles sang with pain that suddenly brought back the nightmares she’d had after Laina’s capture. That she too had been captured; now, that was the truth. She suddenly realized that she wasn’t flying; she was falling...
Chapter two: Painful Empathy
As she plummeted, a sensation unlike any other rose in her mind. She was ready to vomit, though her stomach was empty of all but bile.
She was falling, past the trunks of the Chamelaen Forest, down, down, down…into the blur below. She screamed, suddenly afraid of the open air that only the day before she’d cherished. Her wings still sang with pain, and she realized what must’ve happened. My wings have been clipped, she thougth.
A dark figure pierced the blur of blue sky and green trees. Solid armsenclosed her abdomen. She shrieked again in terror as the Raptein, her captor, lifted her back to the platform.
“Sit. Do not speak,” said the man, his deep hazel eyes narrowing at her from the shadows of his brow. He was handsome in a solemn way, his ebony hair cut short in layers, his skin pale in contrast. His clothing was like that of most Rapteins; a tunic of silk and fur thread, dyed blue grey like the clouds and a cloak of raptor feathers over a rucksack made of bird’s skin leather.
“I’m Gattlinain, son of Jorso of the Raptein tribe. Call me Gattlin, though. You are a Sleveten? Tell me you name.”
“No,” Verdeyan defied him, her voice thin, high and cracked instead of its usual steady tone.
“Alright.” Gattlin shrugged. He didn’t seem too deterred.
Even if he lost interest and left her on the platform, it wouldn’t do much good. She couldn’t fly, the feathers sheared from her skin, and a few portions of her flesh missing due to his knife’s work.
He went to a hut built near the center of the platform, shuffling through his rucksack, removed a torn bed sheet. Gattlin motioned to his captive to sit at his feet. Then, tearing strips from the sheet, he bandaged the wounds on her wings.
“Why?” she whispered.
“What?”
“Why?”
“Why I have captured you? Life is hard here in the trees. I’ve known many captured. So I’ve captured you. I won’t harm you. You’re strong, but clipped wings won’t help you. Don’t try such a ludicrous stunt again. I may not be there to catch you next time.”
“Will you tell me you name?” he repeated.
“Verdeyan,” she hissed, rolling from the sitting position onto her feet, fleeing to climb the towering branches of the tree that harbored the platform.
Gattlin didn’t follow her, but instead flung himself from the platform, into the open sky. With the cold wind flying past his feathers, and through his hair, he felt so strong and free, he was hit with a pang of regret.
What have I done? He wondered. She’s stuck now without the ability to fly.
Such beautiful wings, too. What have I done?
....
Thanks for reading!
Please, feel free to absolutely rip apart my work. It needs a though review.
-Voxina
