Starling Song

She wasn’t supposed to be here. She never should have gone that way. Somewhere out there her vindictive mother was watching all this happening and saying, “I told you so.” Her cruel eyes would be dancing with mirth that her mistake of a fairy child had landed herself in a cage; one less gilded and far more cramped than the one her mother had crafted for her childhood.

Laerha shook her head at her own misplaced focus. Not that she could look anywhere but inside herself. A cage held her, hung her from the wall in a dark cavern. It’s rusted bars and lock belied the strength of the magic that held it together. When she had first woken up here, she was sure that she would be able to slide through the bars, or break them, for she was both smaller and stronger than the rest of her kind. Yet they had held, scratches in the rust the only sign of her attempted escape. Her next plan had been to escape when they came to feed her. They wouldn’t have taken her if they intended her to starve to death, right? Every time her jailers came, however, they came shrouded in a magic that sent her back to unconsciousness. She awoke each time with her head swimming, a pile of seeds on the bottom of the cage.

For Laerha was a melding of species. A product of a drunken night between an elemental fairy and a wood elf. The elemental fairy, her mother, had only wanted information. Normally, by the time she was gone, the poor sods wouldn’t even realize that they had given up far more than they intended. Though, that time, it had been the fairy that had walked away with something unexpected. What would turn out to be a very disappointing elemental, who could barely light a match, and a poor excuse for a wood elf, who could only transform into a common starling. A form she was currently stuck in, prevented from changing by the same magic that kept her from locked away.

The cavern floor was hidden by a thick, swirling mist. She would pass the time by imagining the whisps as air currents high in the air of a sky so open she would have been able to see for miles upon miles. A sea of trees would be below her, rising up and down over the hills as if they had a tidal pattern of their own to follow. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the thin air on her cheeks.

Wait. Her imagination wasn’t that good. She turned her head in the direction it was coming from. Her keepers moved with care they didn’t shift the mists; they would never create a wind. As she squinted, desperate to see into the darkness, a wave of magic rolled through the cavern. It blew through and Laerha could see purple glint spreading up the walls to meet up again in the center of the short, rounded ceiling. It disturbed nothing, not a rattle to the cage or shifting rock, but she felt as though she should have staggered under the weight of the magic. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. The owner of that magic definitely shouldn’t be here.

Laerha had never been any good at gauging time. Without one of the servants to remind her, she would lose the day because she could never tell how much time was passing as the sun moved through the sky. More often than not, it made her late to lessons. She often thought that this failing was her mother’s favorite, because it allowed her to do her favorite thing. Punish Laerha. Creatively and consistently.

Now, however, she counted each and every breath she took, waiting to feel that magic, see who caused it. It was thirty breaths before she glimpsed worn brown boots. Seventeen breaths later, she caught the corner of a cloak as it broke apart a swirl in the mist. They must have been tip-toeing, ultra-carefully, because after that lapse it was fifty-nine breaths before another wave of magic started. Laerha could feel it closer to her cage this time and pushed forward, searching the shadows once again. Six breaths later, she could see him. Well, kind of, almost. She could see the edges of a deep hood, the tip of a long nose, and strands of hair, blonde and dirty, peeking out of the edges as he moved his head this way and that. That way and the other. His vigilance was as constant and unavoidable as a twitch. This intruder clearly knew that he shouldn’t be here, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing in a troll mine.

His silhouette came further into view, step by slow and measured step. He was tall and completely covered by the ratty cloak. It was fraying at the bottom where it kissed the tops of his boots, had dark patches on both arms at the elbow and shoulder, and was covered in more stains than she could count in the shadows. Laerha stomped her skinny leg and pecked at the bar, creating a small thud followed by the gentle squeak of her rusty cage gently swinging.

The man’s gangly frame froze so quickly she turned her head towards the other tunnels, looking for the thing that scared him. But when he slowly turned, toes of his books quietly squeaking on the damp floor, it was towards her cage. Yes! He had heard her, even though the noise she had made had been miniscule. The man’s hood remained steadily facing her cage for so long she began to wonder if he would just continue whatever nefarious purpose he was here for. She tilted her head at him, and bobbed forward in a birdie challenge. Come on, she thought, get me out. She thought it at him, willing him to hear it, to somehow understand her, while knowing it was impossible.

Eventually, he moved toward her with the same painfully careful gait. Laerha hoped that it was born of the situation and not how he normally walked. It would take him an age and a half to do anything.

“What are you doing down here, pretty bird?” He asked, voice rough and just loud enough for her to understand. He couldn’t have been expecting an answer, but she cocked her head the other direction and stomped her foot at him again. She was starting to feel impatient, like her chance for freedom was slipping past her.

Attuned to his movement, she saw his arm as it rose to the cage. She tried to shake her head, but it was not an easy move for her to pull off clearly. She had to be careful, couldn’t sing, and he was looking at the mechanism and not at her. He touched it, and his hand shot back into his sleeve, shaking roughly as he tried not to cry out at the bite of the protective magic on the padlock.

A single gravelly word shot out from the hood. There was the purple magic again, in a targeted strike. She felt it, like a quick singe on her feathers, and the lock was smoking. The man leaned forward, his face becoming visible for the first time. He was striking. There was no other word for it. Sharp, angular cheek bones sat like pale cliff faces, with the rest of his face looking as though it had been chiseled with the utmost care. Dark amber eyes, glowing from within, were framed by a strong brow and lips that would be full when not pulled thin by stress and fatigue. His too long, perfectly straight nose, should have been considered his only imperfection, but it served him well. Regal, and entirely above everyone, brought down to almost relatable, attainable, by that one feature.

He squinted at her, and Laerha realized that she’d been frozen by his features for too long – he had managed to undo the lock and open the door. He must have been waiting for her to fly off immediately.

With a head bob of gratitude, she flitted out of the cage and around his head. She wanted to immediately shift, but the magic in the mist kept her from being able to help, or thank, this mystery man. So, instead of making her own escape, she hovered near the top of his head, holding herself steady with small flutters of wings, and a little bit of magic.

Seeming to understand that she was smarter than the average bird, he didn’t appear too bothered about her sticking with him. He moved through the main room of the cavern, sneaking around the edge, and crouching down to keep himself small. When he went to take the path that the trolls always came from, she used her beak to pull his hood in the other direction. She didn’t know where the other side went, but she knew he definitely didn’t want to meet a mountain full of trolls armed with magic and picks the size of her human body.

He twitched, jumpy at feeling the tug on his clothing, and stared at her curiously. She pumped her wings again, pointedly in the other direction from where he was facing. Appearing perturbed by her distinctly un-birdlike behavior, he paused, waiting, head tilted towards the tunnel. After deciding that she wasn’t tricking him, he followed her down the tunnel. At the next point where they diverged, he looked to her. She had no idea where either side went, so she stayed very still near the top of his head, hoping he made the right decision for them both. The man sighed, no louder than the drips of water falling from the stalactites above them. He crouched down, pressing his ear to the ground at the mouth of one tunnel. Then he crept to the other side and repeated the action. She had seen trackers do this out on hunts, but what could he be hunting here?

He shook his head, took a step towards the right, paused, and turned the other direction. His hands, palms down and peeking out from wide sleeves, started to glow that startling shade of purple magic. He stood like that for several minutes and then started off down the left side, stride careful and purposeful.

It was a long tunnel full of twists and turns. More than once, she was sure that they were doubling back, as though this was an elaborate pattern of switchbacks. It didn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t the trolls have built a straight, defensible path? While she was pondering, the tunnel was lightening the longer they went. She sped up, wings flapping in excitement for a moment before she realized that the man had maintained his careful pace and was now several feet behind her. She flew back to him as he stopped moving. He took his first step backward at the same time that she started to hear it.

It was a scrape, something rubbing on the rock. Coming their way quickly – they could feel the friction of its body in the walls. Laerha didn’t know what trolls would use for protection, but whatever it was it was scaring her rescuer. Immensely. His hands were coated in purple so thick it looked like gloves and his eyes were now full of panic as he backed down the tunnel. She waited, splitting her attention between him and the corner ahead of them, and soon knew why he was afraid.

A monster half crawled, half slid towards them. Its upper body was barely able to fit through the tunnel as it moved towards them. It had four arms, two low on a snake-like torso that it was using to propel itself forward. The upper set of arms held a staff, glowing faintly with yellow and capped by two eight inch curved blades that looked as though they could easily cut rock or flesh. Its beady eyes were locked on to the man, ignoring her completely, and drool dripped from its gaping mouth, kept that way by long tusks protruding from its lower jaw. The winding tunnel suddenly made sense; this thing never would have been able to move in anything else. It was protected by magic and had superior strength, reach, and size? The man stood no chance.

Laerha had to do something. Careful wouldn’t keep them alive any longer. Doing this was breaking her mother’s number one rule. Plus, they’d have to move quickly after to avoid being swarmed by trolls. But running was better than dead.

She opened her beak, and birdsong started. It wasn’t a trill, but a shriek; magic exploded through the passageway in front of her, soundwaves she used to target the beast. It dropped the staff to cover its ears, but her attack went deeper than that. Sensing danger, it started trying to shuffle itself backwards, but strong arms did less when it kept running into its own tail. She followed it, aiming between his eyes. It started to bellow, in pain or anger, but it couldn’t get away from her. Laerha hit a higher pitch, and it started bleeding from the eyes and ears. Faster and faster it tried to move. It shook, it shimmied, it so desperately wanted to flee. Just a few more seconds…there. Its upper half started swaying, arms falling to its sides before it trembled and crashed into the floor below her.

Her wingbeats slowed and she could feel herself starting to fall, exhausted by the power. She was surprised when long-fingered hands caught her. Vaguely she could hear stomping and yelling from somewhere behind them, but she had to trust that the man was smart enough to run in the opposite direction from trolls.

He was, apparently. Smarter still, he kept running once the reached the edge of the caves, past the shaded wood and into the bright sunshine that would be fatal to the hoard. He laid her on the ground, and she kept her eyes closed to soak in the warmth of a sun not felt in far too long. She felt him settle next to her, and, after a few minutes, found that being a bird was unbearable for another moment. Laerha changed forms, feeling the ache in unused limbs and the feel of hair brushing the tops of her thighs. It was much longer than it had been before. Aware, but uncaring that she was naked, she curled up to continue soaking up the blissful sunshine. Moments later, she felt a large cloak settle over her body and sighed gratefully. She knew that they would have to move, before sundown, but she couldn’t make herself.

The man sighed as he settled down to wait. He had found exactly what he had been looking for in those caves, after months of searching. She knew nothing. Yet.