Young Writers Society

Magda was making her way back, the once empty bucket now filled to the brim. Her fingers were red as the content of the bucket sloshed back and forth. She came out of the mountain just as the sun was rising, bathing her in a blaze of riotous colour. She smiled, breathing in the crisp mountain air.
It was a good sign.
Moving swiftly, she turned and began to walk, not downward as she’d come, but rather further up. It was not a steep ascent; the trail she followed winded its way upward but was gentle on the climber. Even so, after an hour of so, her legs were beginning to sting with pain but she pushed herself onward. Soon, she came to the edge of a cliff. A spindly green tree grew on the edge, roots wedged deep in the rock as it hung, defying order and gravity. She patted it familiarly, dropping the bucket. Inside, little lumps of flesh floated on the tide of blood.
She sat, leaning against the tree. Now all she had to do was wait; eventually the smell would bring her quarry. It was not a long wait. There was a flutter of wings, only a slight sound marking a very stealthy approach. Her eyes were closed, but she risked a quick peek. Magda had to stop herself from gasping aloud for she had forgotten their fabled beauty. There, on a ledge only a few feet up, sat a beautiful creature; with massive white wings and a full body, she was simply magnificent. Her hair matched her plumage and her expression was serene. Around one giant talon, a golden band gleamed, proclaiming her royalty for all who cared to see. It had been a long time since Magda had seen a Harpy and she regretted it.
Magda reached into the bucket, picking out a gnarled finger. The Harpy stared down at her, head cocked. She threw the finger upward and her aim was good. It flew straight above the Harpy’s head and as it began to float down, she darted forward and snapped it up, chomping down with bright, sharp teeth. An expression of contentment spread across the Harpy’s face as she chewed. A moment passed, she swallowed and silence descended once again.
‘Pickings have been lean this year, I take it?’ Magda said.
The Harpy nodded. ‘Indeed. Otherwise I might not be eating from a human’s hand, friend or no,’ she replied.
‘I have need of you and your sisters, Serena.’
As they spoke, more and more Harpies began to arrive, fluttering down. They were a fearsome bunch and seen in such numbers, Magda couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation.
‘So I figured,’ Serena said. ‘What is it this time?’
Magda reached into the bucket, getting a finger, shaking the blood off it in daintily. She held it up for a moment, saying nothing. A second later, a Harpy swooped down and nabbed it from her hands. Magda began to repeat the process, as she spoke.
‘A group of men are scaling the mountain. They want something of mine, something I have no intention of relinquishing.’
‘Ah,’ Serena said, eyes gleaming. ‘And why do you not blast them away with your mighty magics, O great witch?’ The great queen’s voice was scathing. There were titters from her brood.
Magda sighed. At her age, political pandering was so tiresome. She knew that Serena couldn’t merely acquiesce to her every demand; she would lose respect. However, Magda was running out of time. She waved her hand and the bucket beside her vanished. Immediately, squawks of anger rose, mingled with shouts of protest.
‘I have other things to do with my time. But, since you choose not to act on my information of fresh prey, then I bid you good day,’ Magda said. She got to her feet, turning to walk away. The cries rose to a crescendo and the young Queen, looking about her with growing panic, shouted out.
‘Wait! We will take care of the humans, but leave us the fingers and a tithe of such, once a month.’
Magda didn’t have to agree, she held the power here. Nevertheless, she waved a hand and the bucket reappeared. She chose not to respond, merely walking away. That was enough for the Harpies however, screaming their victory and swooping down on the bucket.

*

The climb was not an especially hard one, but it was still tough going. The Ageless Mountains were not renowned for their harshness but for their beauty. Cal would have preferred the former as he was weary of hidden pitfalls and unseen enemies. The previous night they had camped on the forested slopes but rhe terrain they were traversing now was much more open and craggy. They climbed in pairs; each man was tied by rope to their partner. It made for a safer and more efficient climb, in this way the mistakes of one man or the other would not affect the entire company.
Leon was making inroads up the face of the mountain, slamming his massive pick axe into rock whenever he needed. Cal was content to sit back and let his lieutenant sort out any unresolved anger with the mountain. The events of last night were still fresh in both their minds, though they said nothing to the rest of the men. The sun was hot on their backs and as it climbed higher in the sky, sweat began coursing down their bodies. Handholds became slippery, footing was lost quickly and it was determined very quickly that they should rest at the first available point.
Leon and Cal were a few metres beyond the rest of the men and so it was they who came across the wide ledge, almost a mini plateau. Cal’s hands felt rough and bruised and so he was glad to finally climb over onto the pathway. He sat, legs dangling over the edge, breathing heavily. It really was a wonderful view with rolling green hills marching into the distance. He heard the screech of a bird of prey and closed his eyes to better appreciate the moment. That was, to say, until he heard the first scream.
‘Ware the sky!’ Leon shouted.
Cal’s eyes snapped open and he saw with horror the first of two entangled men tumble down to their deaths, screaming all the while. Plummeting down with dizzying speed were massive, fierce Harpies, their razor sharp talons slicking through ropes and tearing open faces. He’d been a fool to have let down his guard! The simmering anger, left over from the previous night, burst now into incandescent rage. He added a scream of his own to those already filling the air. Cal began to draw out his massive power, twisting a silver grey rope of energy round and round his hands.
Several Harpies took notice and swerved toward their position. Leon was well prepared for this, having taken the time to draw out and string his bow and arrow. The closest creature, her face twisted in a snarl, was sent screeching downward, scrabbling frantically at the shaft impaled in her chest. Cal cast his rope at the next; it attached itself to the bird woman, uncoiled and extended from one creature to the next. They squirmed in the air, the Harpies trying in vain to escape from the burning energies. Thus diverted they became easy pickings for Leon to shoot. Even as more of the birds fell, others arrived.
Three pairs of men yet remained below. Cleverly, they’d quickly worked out a system to protect themselves. One man lodged himself as securely as possible, taking the weight of his partner who could then take aim at the bird women with whatever projectiles he had available. Already, Shasta’s evil cackle could be heard, a discordant thread weaving amongst the screams.
‘Die, you little bitches!’
Above, Cal set his spell into motion. Barking out a sharp word and flicking the rope like a whip. Blue flames flared out, racing across the line toward the closest Harpy, who flapped desperately and raised a terrible clamour. As the flames reached the hapless Harpy, she screamed and exploded. Faster and faster the flames flew as explosions rocked the sky.
Charred feathers drifted down on the wind.