18. Yera

Chapter eighteen

Yera

W ho knew they could be quiet? The harpy has me latched in their sharp, stone-gray claws. The expanse of their grasp clutches my waist fully in one palm. I guess it's a palm or talon. Who the fuck knows? I'm dangling hundreds of feet in the air. Finding a technical term for their appendage shouldn't be my priority.

Two more harpies join our side and fly in unison. I'm frozen in fear as I dangle like a worm on a hook. Also, ass out.

Acres of forest pass in minutes. We're moving so quickly; there is no way I could get my bearings to find my way back, even if I escape. If I survive the fall.

Shit, shit, shit. I'm stuck. I look to the horizon, seeking the line of smoke from our campsite, but there is nothing. Just nothing but endless forest.

On the bright side, they would drop me if they wanted me dead. If their intention was to ‘send a message' to Arrick, they would have dropped me right in front of him. So perhaps I'm safe from death for a bit. That's comforting.

I'm glad we finally found this chick. Echidna was getting on my nerves.

Right? Threatening beatings aren't the best motivator.

What the fuck is happening?

I stare up at the creatures, but their mouths aren't moving. Their gray-plated heads swivel, looking back and forth from one another, but they say no words.

I hope she leaves us alone after this. I have a garden and pets that miss me.

With her all-powerful abilities, she should be capable of doing some of this shit herself.

How can I hear this? Their conversation bounces back and forth in my mind. The hard shell of their full-plated slate-gray armor wines at each slight movement, but that's all my ears pick up.

This chick is getting heavy. Are we almost there ?

Pass her over. I'll trade off with you.

Oh, fuck, they're going to toss me. Before I finish the thought, massive talons wind up and then fling me into the air like a rag-doll. The ground rushes at me. I'm halted with a violent jolt when the next harpy plucks me out of my free fall. I've never felt more like prey in my life, and I've been to a frat party.

The new harpy has me, but they want a closer look. I'm hoisted up, meeting their gaze. They have big, completely black eyes like Arrick, but slate armor covers every inch of skin. The dull metal is a mix of a serpentine scale and avian patterning. The armor shifts seamlessly with each of their movements, and I'm thinking this is part of them, like an armored exoskeleton.

They move a little closer, taking a long, hard look at me. A Cheshire cat-like smile spreads on their dangerous face, revealing tight rows of narrow, white, pointed teeth.

The corners of my eyes dance with black spots, and everything darkens.

***

Another jolt wakes me up, but I'm still in the air. I must have been passed around again, and I wonder how long I was out.

Now, nothing looks familiar. The sun has come out but sits behind a wall of gray-black clouds. Cool mist settles in patchwork over the moving sky, topping jagged green mountains. The emerald green forest starkly contrasts with the churning dark clouds and is oddly beautiful.

I was on a research project in college, and they sent us to north Vancouver Island to study the sudden rise in the cougar population. If I had something to compare this to, it would be that. Lush, harsh, and indescribably beautiful.

This must be the Stormlands.

Not at all how I pictured it. I was thinking something akin to Mordor with red back clouds the sun never penetrates, volcanic mountains, and maybe even some orcs. Well, there can still be orcs. I haven't had a chance to see it for myself.

I should stop thinking about what awaits me. What if human is a delicacy, and that's why I'm still alive? They want their meat fresh. A shudder rolls through me. Oblivion dances in my eyes again. Stay awake, stay alert, and keep watching your surroundings.

Docile prey is easy prey.

What would Mariana do? I try invoking the essence of my friend. My friend, who has always been fierce and confident, even as a child. She could bend the will of anyone, even seasoned case workers and adults with malicious intentions. I think about her dark green, almost moss-black eyes, tall, muscular frame, and relentless will. I will do her proud, I've decided. This isn't my end, and these motherfuckers will regret the minute they decided to take me.

Scanning the horizon line from my skewed vantage point poses some complications, but I lock onto the mountain range from which the sun seems to be moving away. Okay, I have a sunrise point of reference. One step closer to mapping this whole damn place.

Did she finally wake up? one says to the other.

Yeah, thank the gods. Echidna would have killed us if we let her die .

Interesting. The person who sent these creatures, wanted me alive. I take that morsel of information and lock it away. Keep talking.

The expanse of the bright green forest dapples with rocky outcroppings jutting out of the temperate rainforest like bone blades. Rock faces cluster closer together, tamping out the green in favor of shale gray.

Now, the boulders reach and peak into jagged steeples snaked by stone steps. I keep one eye on my sunrise point, memorizing the outline of the mountains on the horizon. I have no doubt this is my intended destination. This is my one chance to absorb everything before they force me inside. Most likely into a windowless room .

The carved castle windows are massive, with stained-glass murals that seem to be hundreds of feet tall, depicting what must be origin stories and folk tales. The color that projects into the castle when the sun hits them must be mesmerizing. I don't understand how something that creates such violence could be so beautiful.

Then, my pragmatic mind winces at the thought of what might happen to that delicate stained glass if an earthquake rolled through. They could fix it with magic. You're being carried by a mythical beast right now. Get your shit together.

More windows are present on the side of the carved ornate castle face. Gray-toned, opaque windows that reflect a more structured and militant style run in a line up the narrow backside of the building. A single arched wooded door lay at the bottom with a rock platform and several sets of carved winding steps that lead in all directions.

So, some things coming and going from the castle can't fly. Steps wouldn't be necessary if everyone had wings. I don't know what I can do with this information yet, but finding things to pick apart and analyze is helping me stay calm, at least.

We dive closer to the building. Coming at the rock-face at a speeds I would consider reckless on a good day and suicidal on a bad one.

My hair is whipped tight behind my head, and I see the skin on my cheeks ripple from the force of the wind. We are going headfirst into the wooden door, and nothing stops us. I close my eyes and hold my arms over my head to brace for the impact.

Did you see her? She looked so scared .

The harpy holding me glides gently into a polished rock hallway and then drops me a few feet onto the granite floor.

My knees buckle under me on impact. My face meets the hard, cold stone with a fleshy smack , and all three voices cackle in my head .

The sounds are sinister, like a pack of hyenas circling a wounded wildebeest. I push my palms into the cold stone and move to hoist myself up. Before my feet find their hold, I am hauled up by two hands. Fuck, these are orcs. Two seven-foot-tall blue, pierced, fanged-toothed orcs are carrying me, feet dangling like a child on playground equipment.

Bye-bye, little human , one creature calls out to me, waving their stone claw and looking not at all upset to see me go.

One orc carries me on either side. I'm not sure why two are needed. Their biceps are bigger than my head. One could pop me like a zit if they wanted to.

Why is she here again? A gravelly baritone voice echoes in my head.

Echidna wants her for something. You know she doesn't tell me shit.

The two giants walk in silence. All the while, their minds hold a conversation. On closer examination, their skin, which I thought was dark blue, is cobalt blue with thousands of winding black tattoos, so small and closely spaced that, from a distance, it appears as one color.

Did you see the crown she had on earlier today ?

I know! It was the tackiest thing I've ever seen. She doesn't have the bone structure to pull off feathering.

They exchange a small smile.

This has to be the strangest thing that has happened to me since falling into this damn place. However, it gives me a brief insight into the gift I have stumbled upon.

Everyone I have encountered assumes I can't read their thoughts, so they speak freely. Either they can block out others from listening via some method I haven't discovered yet, or it depends on your distance from the person you're communicating with. Perfect, more usable intel .

The carved rock cave that once resembled a landing platform changes into long corridors with lit wall sconces and small arched wooded doors.

The orc to my right side—I haven't figured out his name yet—grabs my waist in one mammoth hand and sets me on my feet. The door in front of me looks like every other door down this corridor—thick mahogany wood stained brown-black, with small runes etched in the grain. The carvings here resemble the tattoos that cover the orcs' skin. I recognize some shapes from Arrick's body, but I don't recall what they meant.

A small key ring is drawn up from the orc's pants pocket, clinking softly while the creature fusses with each one, trying to match it to the lock in front of him.

For god's sake, Dave, you match the mark on the key to the mark on the door. It's pretty simple.

Wonderful. The voice I hear now is from the orc with a long braid and a smaller frame. The other with chin-length hair fiddling with the keys is named Dave. Dave? Just when I think things can't get stranger.

What's the other one's name, Chad? I scoff in my head at the utter absurdity of my situation. I should be terrified, but now I'm just confused and angry.

Dave finds the matching key, and the door opens with a loud click . His enormous hand rests on the small of my back, guiding me into the dark space.

Again, I was expecting something else. My room isn't illuminated with a candle or fire. The dancing yellow lights in small bulbs appear to be an enchantment. There is nothing about this room that screams captive.

A beautiful four-poster bed rests in the center with dark hardwood end tables on both sides. To my right, there is a desk with papers and writing utensils. Sitting next to that is a small bookshelf full of thick leather-bound books with gold leaf words etched into the bindings.

I push into the room and notice a small wardrobe full of clothes next to an actual bathroom, with running water, a bathtub, and a flushing toilet. What the fuck? This room isn't hostage-worthy. Just as my mind thinks that, the heavily wooded door slams and the ever-familiar sound of keys rattling sounds when I hear the lock click back into place.

Beautiful room, but still a prisoner.