Eastern Mountains, Southern Reaches
Two weeks earlier
Her mission loomed ahead. The stone keep sat atop the highest peak, surrounded by sheer drops. A sinuous path ran up the mountainside like a narrow crest; no other entrance existed. Approaching it by land was suicidal.
Under the cover of night, Varetrix ordered her warflock to advance by air.
This fortress once belonged to them. Harpies didn’t need roads.
It was quiet. Endless rows of narrow windows came into view as they drew closer, all empty and dark.
They must be sleeping.
Her foes were well-known for their overdrinking tendencies.
She chose an entrance and raised her claw to tell her fighters to begin the assault. “Start—”
A blue head popped over the windowsill. Golden rings glinted along the goblin chieftain's ears. Sornik grinned at her.
“Idiot!” he cried, pulling a crossbow into view. “Fire!!!”
Screeches rang out around her as the keep erupted with clicks. Harpies plummeted into the abyss.
There was nothing more dangerous to a harpy formation than missiles. The goblins knew that well.
A bolt grazed her cheek, yanking loose blue feathers. Varetrix hissed and flapped her wings. “Follow me!”
Her warflock kicked skyward and didn’t stop until the crossbows lost effectiveness.
The keep fell quiet.
“Reload!” Sornik cried. “Hurry up!”
This was their chance. Still madness. Their enemies numbered in the thousands; her flock, only a few hundred.
But if she didn’t take this fortress, her mother would disinherit her.
Varetrix had no choice.
“Charge!!!” She dove in with her fighters.
Sornik’s window filled her sight, his back exposed as he reloaded.
Snap.
He jerked up and aimed a bolt at her.
Varetrix gritted her teeth and spread her claws.
Servants rushed to tend to her as Varetrix approached her mother’s compound. She yanked free and continued toward the great hall carved into the mountains. Strident laughter came through the unguarded gates.
She held her grazed side and shouldered them open with a groan. A stench assaulted her nose.
Long tables lay scattered across the hall, littered with fish and cheap beer. Closed sleeping chambers hugged the walls. A tall cairn rose at the end, crowned by her mother’s gilded throne—the only gilded thing in these parts.
Zaphyrix’s sycophants stopped flying around the throne.
“Your chick is here,” one of them said. “Empty-handed.”
Her mother’s smile melted away. “Again?”
“The goblins are too entrenched. Not even the werewolves dare to assault the keep.”
“Gather another flock. You have one month.”
“Half of them died in this last assault.” Varetrix stepped forward. “I am going to die at this rate!”
Zaphyrix leaned back on her throne. “I can always hatch another chick.”
The hall echoed with cackles.
Varetrix drew blood from her palms as her fingers clenched.
“Now go get what’s mine—”
“Get it yourself!” she said.
The harpies stopped laughing.
She stepped back as they hissed, baring their claws.
“Are you sure?” her mother asked.
Zaphyrix would kill her without a doubt.
Varetrix swallowed and stormed out of the hall, unable to say what she wanted out loud, which only made her angrier.
Roll over and die already, bitch!
She flapped her wings and set off south without her flock—these fighters belonged to her mother.
Varetrix had her own followers.
White huts came into view on her right. Snoutlings poured in and out of the village constantly, hides drying in wooden frames outside.
She scoffed. “Organized Snoutlings. Now I’ve seen everything.”
As funny as it was, those hides were worth quite a bit of silver.
“Maybe I should pay them a visit later.”
They didn’t seem like fighters.
A smile spread across her face as the timber buildings came into view below—Bjornhavn, the gem of the North.
Her safehouse stood outside the town, near the fjord wall. Brown-feathered, Skarix leaned against the door, standing guard alongside a pair of harpies.
She dove in and alighted quietly on the roof. “Ayo, featherhead!”
He jumped, clutching his chest. “D-do you want to kill me?!”
“No, you’re too pretty. It’d be a waste.”
“S-shut up.” He stopped blushing when he saw her side. “You’re wounded. Come down, would you?”
“It’s massive.” He went inside the safehouse and returned with water, cloth, and some herbs. “I think we should burn it to avoid infection.”
“Absolutely not. I hate fire.”
He shook his head and washed her wound. Varetrix contorted, cursing the goblin chieftain under her breath.
Sornik got her good with that last bolt.
The pain was gone when he wrapped the cloth around her torso. She purred.
“C-could you stop? I’m trying to work.”
“Tsk. I nearly died; cut me some slack.” She slapped his hand away and entered the safehouse.
Coin purses lined the shelves inside, a few bloodstained. Bundles of cloth leaned against the wall.
“Where did all this cloth come from?” she asked.
“One of the merchants couldn’t pay with coin,” Skarix said. “We took the goods.”
“It’s a pain in the ass to sell. We’re not peddlers.”
“I’ll deal with it. Should I send something to your mother?”
She stepped outside and slammed the door behind her. “Don’t you dare. I’m not giving the hag another penny.”
“Zaphyrix is going to be mad...” he said.
“I don’t care. I’m tired of waiting for her to buckle.”
“Time for plan B?”
She grabbed his vest, grinning. “We’ll be living in the south like queens and kings.”
“We should go now, then, before your mother finds out.”
“Just a couple more collections.” Varetrix released him and turned to the town. She frowned as shaggy, gray figures shifted across the open market in the distance. “The Snoutlings.”
A whole caravan of them, their sleds packed with goods.
“Don’t they just grunt?” he asked.
“Of course, they’re animals. Is that… fish I’m seeing?”
“They probably don’t know about the rules yet.”
The Snoutlings entered a small warehouse, escorted by two human guards. Bjornhavn had a symbolic town watch.
“Rules are rules, though.” She whistled to the harpies and set off toward them. “You said you wanted to sell wares; now you have a whole warehouse of them.”
Skarix followed. “Wait. Shouldn’t we just take a cut as we do with everyone else?”
“It’s different; nobody is gonna miss them. Besides, we’ll be out of here before the end of the year.”
The guards stepped back as she rounded the loud warehouse.
A short female Snoutling bumped against her at the door with a basket of turnips. “Sorry, we already rented this one.”
She spoke Nordic.
“How cute.” Varetrix grinned down at her. “Welcome to Bjornhavn.”