The Fickle Winds of Autumn

The rough wind surged into Kira’s eyes as she urgently scanned down the dizzying jagged grey cliffs for any sign, any hope of Harath or Ellis.

Her fretful fingers clutched at the coarse cave wall and held her distraught body upright, away from the perilous edge of the chamber.

Her leaning head teetered and spun with nausea; the terrible precipitous drop wavered and rose up to meet her quivering trembling feet.

Billowing flakes of snow stung into her eyes, but she refused to close them - they must be there, they must be safe - Harath was a great queen - Harath would never let her new friends down.

She strained her hopeful ears for any clues, but the suffocating wind swallowed her barren hopes.

They can’t just have fallen and died like that.

They must be safe.

They must be somewhere.

The forlorn acid in her stomach sunk and stabbed through her dismayed core.

Her pulsing, numbing fears punctured and counted out a few miserable hollow lifetimes, and brought with them the caustic realisation that her friends were gone.

They hadn’t deserved to die that way, so cruelly, so needlessly, so close to escape and freedom.

Her despairing eyes gazed out at the deadly rocks of the ravine.

The world beyond the convent walls seemed so cruel and so random - stripped of any certainty or comfort.

A dark shadow pulsed and flickered through the swirling, tumbling mist.

Her stubborn eyes blinked and strained and refused to focus as the thin snow stung into them.

But her heart thudded with an uncertain, needful hope.

She wiped the melting flakes away and stared intently, desperately.

The shadow pounded and flapped its huge brown fog-burdened wings and climbed up out of the swirl of obscuring mountain fret.

It was Harath!

And Ellis dangling below her!

They were alive!

They were safe!

Harath beat her magnificent, life-saving wings with strong confident sweeps; she regained a swooping lofty altitude and powered a steady channel through the light drifting swirls of snow, across the valley, towards the roaring water of the far cliff.

Her flight seemed staggered and slightly ungainly - perhaps Ellis’s suspended weight swung and jerked at her progress?

Perhaps she was still not quite sure of her wings?

But they were alive and moving swiftly towards their destination.

Kira’s tense, apprehensive body relaxed and rippled with grateful relief.

Her expectant eyes watched happily as the rushing water was disturbed and parted by a brief flash of foaming white as Harath crashed through the booming watery curtain.

They had made it!

Ellis would be safe, at least.

Harath flashed back out through the torrent of surging water and sped back towards the nest exit.

The flecks of water sparkled and glinted in the rare mountain light as they bounced and fell from her fine plumage.

Kira’s nervous pulse told her that she should get Aldwyn into position.

The guards could still come at any moment.

They were not safe yet.

She must focus and do what she could to speed up the escape.

She dashed over to Aldwyn’s slumbering form and wrestled to manoeuvre his bleary weight closer to the bright, chilly exit of the chamber.

He murmured dully through his sleep, but the blustering wind stole his words.

A great shadow flickered and briefly blocked the light from the cliffs; a fierce rushing current of air blustered through the chamber accompanied by an abrasive scratch and scuffle of sharp talons on the rugged cave floor.

“Harath! You got Ellis across! I knew you could do it! I’m so happy!” Kira said.

“Yes,” Harath panted, “He was heavy - heavier than the mightiest goat - but I am still blessed with the mighty favour of Skirnam!”

Harath hung her head as she gasped for tired breath.

Kira dragged Aldwyn into position and dangled his calves over the perilous exit, then pulled him up into a seated posture.

His woozy frame flopped backwards; his grey head bumped on the hard cave floor.

“Oh! My poor old bones!” his quiet lips murmured; his limbs gently twitched and spasmed.

“Aldwyn!” Kira said. “You’ve got to sit up! We’ve got to escape from here. Don’t worry - my friend will carry you - but please sit up and don’t wriggle!”

Harath twisted her head to one side and blinked down at Aldwyn.

“This is most strange - another one has broken the Gift. He is old, but his spirit must be strong too, yes?”

“Well, he is old - but he is a great healer,” said Kira as she pulled him back up. “Perhaps that’s helped him somehow?”

Harath drew down several more deep breaths, then extended her fine wings.

“Move back and I will carry him across - then I will return for you, before the guards arrive, yes?”

Kira squinted through the heavy swirling currents which filled the chamber, as Harath beat her wings and hopped up on Aldwyn’s shoulders.

He gave out a brief slurred groan as her talons grasped at him, before Harath pushed forward and propelled them both over the gaping edge, out of the cave, into the jaws of the ravine.

They plummeted straight down, below the level of the cave floor, out of Kira’s sight.

But she knew what to expect; Harath was tired but capable; her concerns no longer doubted her new friend as she ran to the edge and waited faithfully to see them both rise up through the obscure clouds and swoop towards the waterfall.

It would be her turn next.

Her apprehensive stomach prickled.

Her wayward eyes tried not to look down at the deadly drop below.

It would be fine.

She would be fine.

Perhaps her shoulders would hurt, but she would be safe with her friends, away from the dangers of the aerie.

In the trapped gloomy confines of the convent, the very idea of flying - of even seeing the Surrounder’s vast and glorious sky - had seemed an exciting and impossible dream.

But now, faced with the sudden awful dizzying reality, and the terrible prospect of certain death if Harath should falter or drop her, flying did not seem such a happy or desirable option.

Harath darted back out from the waterfall. She was clearly tiring - her wings beat a little slower than before and she tried to glide on the swirling currents; her frame tilted and angled a little more lopsidedly.

Kira stepped back from the cave opening as the great shadow of her friend filled the mouth of the exit again and obscured the vagrant daylight.

Harath’s approach seemed ungainly and more awkward than her first return; her silhouette chased into the cave much faster and with less control.

She stretched her legs down to land; her talons skidded and scraped along the unyielding floor; her juddering legs wobbled and collapsed beneath her as she tumbled clumsily into the cave rolled over in a tired ungracious ball of feathers.

Kira’s worried thoughts jostled and brooded as she moved towards her friend.

Harath lay still and gasped for air.

She did not seem to be injured - but perhaps it had been too much to expect her to carry all three of them to safety?

It was only recently she felt she could no longer fly at all.

But perhaps it would be rude to mention her exhausted condition?

Or perhaps it would be even ruder still not to show her concern?

“Harath, are you all right?” she asked.

“I…will be…fine…” Harath replied. “The old one…was heavier… than he looked.”

“You’re doing really well, Harath! I’m so pleased you’re helping us! I hope I won’t be so much of a burden to you.”

Harath drew a deep, rasping breath.

“You will be the lightest,” she gasped, “and yet the most precious.”

Kira smiled faintly.

The churning wind did not seem quite as cold as before.

But a nagging sensation of dread continued to prickle at her skin.

She was not safe yet.

The guards could arrive at any moment.

And every wheezing lungful of breath that Harath sucked in was time wasted, time they did not have.

But her friend was almost immobile from exhaustion - there was no choice but to allow her some respite.

Kira’s anxious mind resisted the prospect of having to wait through a slow, awkward silence.

It might embarrass Harath - and would also give her own thoughts the unwelcome chance to worry about her turn, her chance to escape, her cutting painful shoulders and the deadly drop down the fatal unforgiving cliffs.

“I was thinking, Harath, will you come with us and escape too? Your own kind have been so rude and mean to you, and don’t even seem to want you here. And you said yourself that you’ve always wanted to see the world of humans.”

“I can not go with you, my young friend,” Harath replied, “although all of me wishes it could be so. If your hunters see me, they would know of our nest here in the cliffs, and that will endanger all the Akkipter.”

Harath paused and gulped down some air.

“And no matter how undeserving they have been, they are my people, and my husband is their king. I often feel human, but I can never forget this.”

“But you can’t just stay here - the others will be furious with you if they find out you helped us escape.”

Harath lent forward and preened a wing feather back into place.

“You have been a blessing to me in these last days - surely the greatest gift from Skirnam - I wish you had been here in my younger times - I am glad to feel so proud again and to feel the swift currents beneath my feathers once more.”

Harath wobbled up to her feet.

Kira’s uneasy eyes tried not to gaze down at Harath’s sharp, piercing talons.

“And you have been a good friend to me - to all of us - Harath.”

“Yes, I feel the bonds between us. Surely you are a great queen, just as I am. And I cannot deny the truth of what you say - if I stay, they will kill me - but I will die soon anyway - it is my time, it is the way of things.”

Kira’s apprehensive limbs relaxed as her fond heart forgot its own anxieties and reflected on the sad truth of her friend’s words.

It would have been wonderful to have such a companion on her journey back to the convent.

Perhaps Harath would even have joined her inside?

She would meet Amber.

They would all be happy together.

But perhaps that would be cruel - for Harath never to see her beloved sky again?

And what would the disapproving nuns say about it?

Her bitter-sweet thoughts searched for some words of consolation.

Harath jerked her agitated head up.

“Quiet now! I hear steps approaching. It is the guards! Quickly! Get to the exit!”

The soft, comforting spell of Kira’s reverie shattered as she dashed to the open mouth of the cave and threw herself down near the edge.

She dangled her knees down over the sharp, sheer, precipitous rocks and told her eyes not to look down.

The billowing wind pushed and pulled at her face and hair and clothes.

She sucked down a deep breath and braced herself for the pain of Harath’s grip.

Was Harath ready?

Had she recovered from the exhaustion of her previous trips?

Behind her, the eddying currents of Harath’s mighty wings swooshed and buffeted and ripped at the air.

The fierce, swirling surges forced themselves into Kira’s ears and up her nose.

But the beating pulse of their rhythm seemed slower and less certain than before.

A searing invasive pain tore across her tender, vulnerable shoulders.

She fought to control a painful scream as Harath’s piercing weight pressed down on her back.

The battering, whirring confusion forced her eyes to close.

Behind her, the keen squawking screech of a guard echoed from the corridor.

Harath’s thrusting momentum pushed her forward, over the deadly gaping drop.

The slow blood cried out from her tormented wounds.

The floor of the cave rasped away from under her.

She fell - helpless and panic-stricken against a deep, relentless fearful gravity.

The jagged, cold mountain air screamed up past her terrified face and deafened her ears.

She tried to swallow her lurching stomach as it raced up to meet her frantic throat.

Harath struggled and flapped and squawked above her.

The incisive talons clutched and tore at her agonised shoulders.

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Why weren’t they flying?

Down, down.

Hurtling down.

A terrifying, weightless momentum.

A fragile, merciless gravity.

Sucking them down past the rushing jaws of the ravine; down to the hungry rocks below.

How deep was this valley?

It couldn’t be long now until the ground raced up to meet her; to claim her helpless life.

But perhaps it was better to die this way - a swift and merciful ending - than be torn apart and eaten as the flesh of Graath?