Blue sky. Green fields. Sun shining through a clearing in the clouds. Who could imagine a more perfect scenery?

Varin could. He glided among the clouds, beating his wings in a lazy rhythm to keep afloat. Below him, far in the distance a pair of travellers were making their way through a rugged path. They stopped near a sign promising the certainty of death upon advancing and ignoring it stared past. One of them, an old mage of the Rhyana order, pointed at the structure behind Varin.

Without needing to see, he knew the mage gaped in awe. His eyes would burst with terror and excitement, lips whispering words that made no sense. He’d quiver, his pointing finger shaking. After awhile the mage would find his confidence, determination overtaking his features. He would be ready to move forward.

Pathetic. So pathetic and predictable. .. and so very human. Varin caught an air current and swerved right, catching it. Voices reached him from above. Other birds were chattering in eager tones. There were always those that enjoyed the bloodshed. They waited eagerly for the upcoming fight.

He clicked in irritation, beating his wings faster to get away from them. Leaving the flock, he imagined himself to be alone. Away from what was going to happen.

Memories of Ieela assailed him. It was only a week since she was hit by a stray crossbow bolt. Everyone came to him expressing their sorrow, blaming themselves for the event. Her team’s leader even suggested to take his own life in turn. As a reparation.

What would that solve? Would it bring her back? He clucked in laughter. Stupidity. Everything was so stupid. The relic, their defence, the strangers. His heart hammered as he thought about the pair of outsiders. Will they lose someone again?

Involuntarily his eyes moved to the flock flying carelessly in the sky. The rest of his people were fluttering in the sun. Its warm rays danced on their white wings. Washing them all in gold. Bronzed sculptures hung in the air.

Flutter of wings and the picture was broken. He turned away. Death would take whoever it wished. It wasn’t his place to worry. Still, he returned his gaze to the two figures by the sign - the last resort to make the travellers turn from their perilous path. A fruitless one. Through all his years he’d not seen one party that changed their course. Those who reached this place had already gone too far to back off. In their eyes, there was no longer any choice.

'Varin!’ a voiceless call came into his mind.

‘Karo?’ he asked surprised. What could the leader want from him? He finished his rounds yesterday and had today off. As far as he knew.

He tried recalling if he forgot some task or extra chore but nothing came to mind. It was awhile since he talked with anyone of authority. They couldn’t give him any orders if he didn’t meet them. Could they?

The clear voice spoke again. ‘Return to the Nest. It’s an order.’

He missed a beat and had to catch himself in the air. The Nest? This couldn’t be as simple as a missed assignment. God.. What did they come up with this time? Something more to repay him for allowing his mate’s death? Clicking in irritation, he beat his wings faster and veered towards the old relic. They better don’t suggest something stupid again.

He hadn’t even liked the overbearing swine.

***

"What is that?" Irene asked in a soft voice, shielding her eyes to have a better look.

Her companion lowered his pointing finger, slightly embarrassed by his previous shout of awe. Collecting his lost dignity, he replied with what she considered his lecturing voice: deep and throaty. Supposedly it made him sound more distinguished. Fit his rank, or something of a kind. She never could grasp his reasoning behind it. Not that she listened to it for that matter. She grinned at the thought. Better he never learnt that.

She should probably listen to him now, though. For a moment.

"An ancient artefact. Another story lost in time,” he said and Irene turned to him in surprise. Only this? That was unusual. Words tended to flow from him like water down a waterfall.

Kean’s face was flushed with colour. His lips twitched as they shifted from a smile to a pained frown and back again. She noticed the barest movement of his hand and lowered her gaze to see Kean’s pale staff of office vibrating. His fingers clutched the painted wood in a tight grip, convulsing with nervous quivers.

“You okay?” Irene asked, positively spooked.

The mage shifted his feverish eyes on her. A dangerous fire was burning in their depths. She did not like it. She did not like it whatsoever.

“I’m great!” he wheezed out, forgetting his lecturing tone. Not good. She shifted from one foot to another. Could they still turn back? Without conscious thought her gaze turned towards the mountain pass they had come through. The thick snow glistened bright in the sunlight, not melting. Their prints were deeply set into the road.

There was no way there. They didn’t have the supplies for the return journey. It grated on her nerves that their lord could be this manipulative. In secret he removed part of their supplies so that they were forced to retrieve the magic behind the ancient artefact.

Either that, or become another pair of frosted corpses in the barren lands of the north.

As she thought that, she returned her gaze back to the artefact. Her back crawled. This was no place for humans. She could feel the magic emanating from the gigantic structure without being a mage. Its power was overwhelming. Pushing her to the ground with an invisible hand. The pressure wasn’t strong but extremely uncomfortable.

What was that towering structure in the first place? She tried to reason out its form but couldn’t make sense of it. There was a city before the mountain which was normal. Logical. But on the hill stood something akin to a wheel.

A broken one. And made up of three wheels. Maybe. The central one was easy to distinguish, but the second almost looked like it started off from the first one. Clouds were blocking her sight. They made it even harder to make any sense.

Still, strangest of all was that the the last wheel, or well two broken off pieces of it where extending from the hill like two horns. Did that mean the structure was built in this place? She had a hard time believing that. No humans could construct such a thing. Neither did they possess such potent magic.

Many tales argued over how strong it was, how dangerous but all agreed it wasn’t from this world. One day it just descended from the sky and floated above the mountain range until a mage found its way in. He used its powers - whatever they were, the tales never settled on that - and brought the whole continent under his rule. Once that was done he sent the artefact away to self-destruct. He didn’t want others coming with its powers to challenge him.

Irene wondered now, why did he send it away in the first place. Why not keep such a weapon to oneself? If she had the sharpest spear in the world, she wouldn’t break it so that no one would use it against her. No, she would hold it in her hand and make those others pay for considering attacking her.

Was the mage simply stupid? She shook her head in mirthless humour. That was even harder to believe. He had subdued the whole continent. With the power of the artefact or not, it wasn’t an easy feat. More than that, he retained his control over it till the last of his days. Only after his death did the lands fracture without having a clear ruler, many fighting for the title but unable to become the one.

A flash of movement caught her attention. White shadows were fluttering among the clouds. Birds! Pigeons? They were white in colour. Maybe then. Or maybe it were some distant cousins of theirs. You could never tell with a giant magical artefact so close to their roosting place.

“Let’s go!” Kean said in an eager voice, swinging onto his horse. The animal shied in surprise, whinnying its discomfort but the mage managed to get on its back without falling over.

“Right, right,” she muttered. Her horse along with the mule dragging the cart with supplies had frozen to death in the pass. “You think its safe there?” she asked, biting her lip. All her instincts were screaming at her it was a terrible idea to walk closer to the ancient artefact.

“Of course! I’m here!” the mage exclaimed, dismissing her worries. He returned his burning gaze to the winding path leading towards the city, and a hill behind it.

A likeness struck Irene. Kean was like a schoolgirl invited to he New Year’s ball by the most popular cadet. Terrified its a prank but unable to resist the temptation.

Heartbreaking. And she had to follow along.

Tightening her grip on the spear, she put on her conical helmet and marched down the road. No point worrying about it now. There was only the road ahead.

On the side, a sign in a long forgotten language stood. Its deep set-in characters passed the message clear and without Irene being able to read them. The faded, once deep red, letters seemed to shout at her to turn, run away before it was too late.

She shook the bad feeling off. There was no one up ahead. The road was empty of tracks or hints of passing. No one lived here. It was safe.

The words sounded hollow to her own ears. She fell into a slow run, matching the horse’s easy trot. Her companion was in a hurry but he wasn’t stupid. Sitting in his saddle, he held his staff up and murmured words of power. Her eyes could see nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe her fears were unfounded.

Carefully, they made their way towards the abandoned city. The track wasn’t long but taking every step with extreme caution, it took them half a day to reach the surrounding wall. Five times their height, it stood like a bastion of power without a sign of decomposing or ruination. Luckily for them, the gates were open.

The streets lying ahead were unearthly with their emptiness. Many doors swung open, squeaking as the wind pushed them back and forth. Somewhere ahead an old tree creaked. All normal sounds but in the eerie silence they rang like gongs. Flinching each time, Irene wasn’t having a good time.

“Stop jumping at every noise,” her companion laughed. Kean was in a better mood after not encountering any resistance in the road. He was growing certain they’d face no challenges in reclaiming the old magic.

Her heart hammering louder with every step they took in the lost city, Irene ignored his joy. There was something wrong here. Why was this city abandoned? And why not found? If there was no danger here, why no one took back the magic in the last four centuries? It couldn’t be this easy.

Their enemies weren’t idiots. If there was such power on display - and everyone knew the myths and legends - they would have come here much earlier. The whole situation begged the question - where was everyone?

She hefted the spear in a more comfortable grip, where she could use it to defend or attack in a heartbeat. “I don’t like this place,” she told the mage.

Kean dismissed her worries with a wave of his hand, an eager smile on his wizened face. He looked much younger like this. Not his fifty something years. “You’re too anxious. Don’t worry. If there was anyone here, I’d sense their presence right away. There’s nobody here.”

He was still using his spells? Relief burgeoned to drown her. He was still being careful. Not the fool she took him for. Maybe his rank as a senior wizard of the inner council did mean something.

A rush of sound, movement overheard and Irene dropped to the ground, her stomach rolling in fear. What was this? An aerial attack? Where did they come from? She used her spear to defend herself and saw a white feather floating by her face. Feather?

She whirled around to see a flock of pearly white birds disappearing within another street. Doing her best to catch her breath, she turned towards the mage. He was sitting on the ground, massaging his bruised head.

“You all right?” she asked, moving to help him stand.

Kean took her hand to pull himself up, a faint smile on his face. “Besides my bruised ego? Yeah.”

She answered with a forced smile of her own. Her heart was still galloping like a frightened horse. It was just birds. Birds. Harmless little flying creatures. No danger. Nothing to fear whatsoever.

Talking to herself in this manner, she scanned the street ahead. Unnaturally shaped towers and other stone buildings with open holes for windows. From a few, curtains flowed in the wind. Snapping from time to time. Safe but for her own imagination. Every shadow held a monster in her mind.

“Foolish little girl, afraid of the monster under her bed,” she muttered to herself. Kean looked at her with a raised eyebrow but she shook her head. It was unimportant. They should rather move forward. Daylight was being wasted. The sun would set in an hour.

The next half an hour passed in a blur of jumps, scares and scattering of small animals they roused. By the end they were both laughing at themselves, how jumpy they were without any danger present. Still, it was nervous laughter.

The presence of the gigantic artefact grew larger with each step they took towards it. Irene wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk by the time they got close to the weird structure. Its pressure was already becoming a hassle. Her shoulders quivered as she tried to remain standing.

Another sound caught her attention. This time she recognised the flutter of wings and shared a wry smile with Kean. The mage shook his head, turning to face the oncoming flock. There seemed to be an endless amount of these birds here.

Irene shut her visor down and bent her knees, moving her spear in front of her in a defensive gesture. The birds might be harmless but their onrush could deal significant damage without them even trying for it. Hundreds of wings beating, talons grabbing onto the unfamiliar presences in self-defence.

A couple heartbeats and the majority of the flock was past. Irene breathed a sigh, straightening out when a weird shape dived towards Kean. She was about to shout a warning but it was too late. The attacker struck the mage’s chest, collapsing it. Kean could only gulp a breathless “oo” before crashing down from the horse.

His attacker tried to disentangle himself but his taloned foot was stuck in the mage’s ribs and the two came tumbling down together. Irene knew she should rush over, try to kill the monster that murdered her companion, but her hand was frozen on her spear.

What was that thing? Humanoid with long taloned feet like a chicken’s and white feathery wings instead of hands. Its head was more oblong than any humans with eyes set apart so far, they were almost on different sides of the face. A beak was set where mouth and nose should be while the rest of the face was covered in small feathers.

Her mesmerised freeze lasted for no more than a second but it was enough time for more of these creatures to arrive. One of them dived her. Knowing the strength of that attack she did not bother blocking and just danced to the side.

Most opponents were always surprised by her speed in the thick armour and the humanoid bird was no different. It struck the ground, flapping its wings uselessly. Too late noticing that its target had moved away.

Irene used the moment of the creature’s shock to stab her spear into its heart. The round eyes stared at her, uncomprehending. It squawked. Then life left it and she let the body drop. As weird as these creatures were, they were no stronger than men. She could do it, she told herself. Just another dangerous situation. An attack of bandits. Nothing to be unsettled by.

A chorus of inhuman screeches descended upon her ears. She tried to shut down the noise, ignore it but the creatures were loud. They were furious about her killing their comrade. She was certain of that.

Then the real attack started. They came at her diving one after another, not giving her a chance to counter-attack. A few others remained around her, flying and fighting with their feet. The talons were strong enough to block her spearhead, and if she wasn’t careful could lock around it and drag her spear away.

She tightened her grip and thrust her spear at the newest attacker. It dropped in the air, evading. Happy, she shifted her spear and sliced the creatures front. It squawked in outrage, blueish blood discolouring its white feathers.

The sound of rushing wind came from above and without thinking she jumped backwards. One of the birds crashed where she stood but before she could descend on it, another one intercepted her. Gritting her teeth, she released one hand and swung the spear around herself in a wide arc.

It cleared the air around her for a heartbeat and she lunged forward with a heavy downward swing at the still immobile bird creature. The spear smashed into its head, killing it instantly.

Clamour of noises and wing beats around her rose once more. No worries. She was getting the hang of it. Now that they no longer had the element of surprise on her, there was little they could do. Their attacks were overly simple and she could defend against them with ease.

Maybe there really was a chance she could leave this alive.

Two more birds came at her, squawking indignantly. She ignored their constant noise and kept them at bay with the length of her spear. After a moment’s consideration she backed away so her back was to a wall. Also there was a slightly hanging roof to hide her from most of the divers.

Thrust, thrust and raise the middle of the shaft to defend against the talons. They razed the wood, peeling off paint but didn’t threaten to snap it in half. She thanked her teacher for choosing such a superior weapon, when another attack came.

She used the butt of her spear to smack into the bird’s leg and send him fluttering away as it lost its balance. Then she reversed her grip and swiped at the other two birds before her. One was too slow and was slashed but the other caught the spearhead with its talons. The iron grip was impossible to break.

Irene tried to drag the spear back, level the head downwards but the bird used all the strength in its wings to raise up with it. Another moment of tug-o-war between the two of them, and she knew she’d lost. If she held for any longer, the bird would lift up with her along with it.

They’d probably both crash down in another heartbeat but that would be lethal to her. She couldn’t allow herself to be put in such a defenceless position.

Letting go of the spear she drew the sword at her hip in the same motion and slashed at the approaching birds. They cackled at her, knowing her end was near. Having lost the reach advantage of the spear, she was that much closer to their dagger sharp talons. One wrong move and she wouldn’t see the sun rise up again.

No way. She wasn’t having that. Calming her beating heart, Irene judged her options. She could remain here and fight, most likely losing her life. Or try to run and hope they wouldn’t follow outside the city boundary. What to do, what to do. Both choices were equally crappy.

She did an uppercut, slicing off a number of feathers from an indignant opponent who screeched at her as it flew away. They were weak, these creatures, but there were so many of them! She couldn’t fight them all. Not twenty against one.

Run then. A couple wide swings cleared the air around her and she pushed herself off the wall. Dashing the way they came, she heard the heavy beating of wings following right after her. The helmet prevented her from turning back so she focused only on running.

Turn right there, straight here, left on this side, and left again. Straight now, straight. Hurry, hurry! Her muscles screamed at the unprecedented push. No one was supposed to be running at full-speed with armour. But she kept on going, zig-zagging when she thought she heard the wing beats closing in. Or the loud rush of air signalling a dive.

So far so good. She could almost see the wall through the sweat dripping into her eyes. Another stride. A few more and she would be out.

Something latched onto her helmet. She saw the tip of a long talon right above her visor. Terror fuelling her movements, she raised her sword, cutting the chin strap holding the damn thing on her head. Her neck bled where the sword had sliced into it in her hurry.

Still, the sudden looseness caught the bird unaware and it lifted up in surprise, a sudden yelp expressing its puzzlement. As it rose, the helmet caught crooked and dragged a wide gash through Irene’s forehead.

She hissed in pain, brushing a gauntleted hand to clear the blood that was about to spill into her eyes. Then she caught herself. Wasting time. What was she doing just standing here like an idiot? Run! Run!

Beating wings followed her wherever she went. For some reason, the closer she got to the wall, the more certain she became they’d follow her outside too. And there they would have an even greater advantage on her.

So, right before dashing through the gates and into the fields, she skidded, shifting to her right and bursting into a low roofed house. No true safety here but she saw an open window almost touching the window of the next house. If she squeezed through it..

Not with this armour. Glancing down at herself Irene considered the new idea. Foolish. Dangerous. But what choice did she have? Muttering under her breath she rushed to close the door, barring it with a table. Then she took out her dagger and went on cutting all the leather straps holding her armour together.

There was no time to take it off in a normal fashion. The birds would give her a minute or two, maybe a bit more before they dared to try going through the windows. In that time she needed to be away. Had to be. If she wanted to have a chance of survival.

In five minutes she dropped the last piece of her mail, standing in a sweat soaked linen undershirt and soft leather pants. Barefoot she sneaked to the window and plastered against a wall, looking upwards.

No one. Not a shadow in the sky. Careful not to attract attention with sudden movements, she stepped closer to have a better look. Still nothing. Could they have retreated? She didn’t believe it for a second. Hiding, waiting for her to leave first most likely so they could rush on her from unexpected angles.

“Not so easy,” she promised them under her breath and after making sure there was no one in the sky, slithered outside. Without extra precautions, wasting time to look above, she dived into the next house. Rolling to land on her bent feet, she froze. Listening.

Quiet. So very quiet. Even the wind calmed down.

She did not feel safe. Instead she investigated the house and found another window adjacent to a different house. There must have been little space in the city for the buildings to be so close to one another. A treat to her.

The next half an hour she went form one house to another, hoping it would confuse her trail to the bird humanoids. The lack of them in the sky puzzled her but it was as it was. She couldn’t do anything about it. Better to move. Avoid detection the only way she could think of.

***

Varin perched on the citadel’s top, watching the scuttling female below. Did she think her movements were unobserved? Stupid. The mistake will cost her her life. Then again, he mused, it wasn’t like she had a choice. Whatever she did, death was the only outcome. No one who entered the city were allowed to leave and tell the tale.

The girl - what was she nineteen, twenty? - ducked into another house. Her movements were becoming slower and noisier. Her actions less definite. This time she almost fell down when reaching for the windowsill. Exhaustion was overtaking her.

It was time to act.

He didn’t call on any from his group and lifted up into the air. His wings beat soundlessly as he moved towards the girl. The building she was in had only one window on the first floor and that went into a small field. Ten steps to reach the next window.

Upon reaching the place, he circled in the air. The girl was moving on instinct now. It was awhile since the last time she looked upwards. Noise from below alerted him ad, she dragged herself out.

Without wasting another moment, he dived downwards without a sound. Unlike his compatriots, his wings did not make a sound. The silent killer. He reached her in a quarter of a heartbeat, his talons grabbing onto her neck and left shoulder. The neck burst from the force, killing her instantly as his other foot shattered the shoulder.

Jumping away, he stared at the glistening blood on his talons. Human blood. Not the first and not the last. One more time to go to the lake and clean off.

He lifted up, a sorrowful note escaping from his beak as an emotionless ‘Well done’, came into his mind from the leader. Well done? He couldn’t think of words less fitting than those. Flying past the city he could still see the crumbled forms of his two dead companions. Another one lay with a broken wing and slashed torso near them. Still alive but not for long.

Many more were wounded. Not mortally so but some might no longer be able to fly. Others would have pains for the rest of their lives. Pains that will get them killed in the next encounter. And it would come. Soon. The humans were entering a stage where they sought the power at any cost. They no longer minded that their people did not return. They just sent more.

In time, all the avians would get killed. Varin had no illusions about that. A year. Maybe two. The relic might transform the rest of the birds into humanoids too but it wouldn’t last. An extra half a decade at best.

Useless, so very useless. He glided near the lake, stepping in to wash the blood away. If only the memories of killing could be washed off as easily. And for what did he do it? Because the relic changed them and ordered them to?

For a moment he remembered the simpler life before. An owl flying through a night forest, hunting. An unlucky mice searching for a meal. It was better back then. No questions about life and death, the reason for killing. It was plain and simple survival.

Varin stepped deeper into the lake, splashing the water all around him. His feathers soaked through and soon he was drenched, losing body heat. Freezing. Time to return to the flock. Hear more apologies for the mate chosen for him that he disliked. Say his own apologies for letting those avians die under his watch.

The command of leading the force to kill the strangers was given to him after all. To relieve his pain and anger at the humans’ despicability. Or so they said. He stepped out of the water, brushing his feathers with the beak. White. Pearly white of innocence and peace.

Shaking his head he beat the wings and rose into the sky. A committee of mourners were waiting for him. Today’s action was over and only the bureaucracy was left. Time to pay up his due.