John Marco - Starfinder

Moth had never seen a thing so ugly. Huge, bulbous claws hung down from its mottled body. A hint of breasts rose beneath its feathers. Saliva threaded from its female lips as it spoke, mimicking a human voice. The head was nearly bald, hairy in spots, vulture pink in others.

“Traitor!” it said, leering mockingly at Alisaundra. “Artaios has his vengeance planned for you. Unending suffering!”

Alisaundra’s fangs sprang out. “Speak your message,” she hissed, “then die.”

Her anger delighted the harpy. It fluttered higher, right over Moth and Fiona. Rendor aimed his pistol, ready to fire. “Jorian…”

“No, she won’t harm them,” said Jorian. He glared up at the creature. “You’re nothing but an errand girl. Skylords send the foulest muck to speak for them.”

The harpy flew closer to Rendor, taunting him with its talons. “You are the law breaker,” it said. “Human. Spreader of plagues. No mercy for you.”

Rendor’s finger trembled on the trigger. “I know all about Skylord mercy, miscreant. Want to see mine?”

Skyhigh rushed forward. “Rendor, don’t!”

The harpy bubbled, “Bring him the Starfinder! Artaios is kind. Give him what is his, and only the humans will die.”

“Not only humans,” retorted Jorian. He patted the bow at his chest in warning. “Tomorrow, Skylords will fall.”

“Spare yourselves this misery!” called the harpy. She hovered toward Jorian. “Give Artaios the Starfinder, and he will spare these children both! He gives his word on this, centaur. Surrender the Starfinder. For that you get your lives, and the lives of these worthless pups.”

Moth saw a flash of weakness in Rendor’s eyes. Slowly he lowered his pistol.

“No!” cried Moth. “If Artaios wants us, tell him to come and get us!”

“Right,” Fiona echoed. She pointed at her painted face. “You see this? I’m a warrior of Pandera now. I’m like a dragon! Tell the Skylords the dragons aren’t finished yet. They aren’t beaten. Tell them Merceron is still alive… in me!”

Rendor stepped toward her. “Fiona…”

“She has spoken,” thundered Jorian. “Rendor, we are not slaves, any of us.” He looked up at the harpy, and with a snort of disgust said, “Go and tell your master Pandera is for free people. Tell him we are warriors. If he wants the Starfinder so badly, tell him to come and die for it.”

The harpy beat its wings in frustration. “Tomorrow, then,” it spat. “Be ready for blood.”

From the corner of his eye Moth saw Alisaundra spring skyward. Both hands shot out, grabbing the harpy by the neck.

“You are done, messenger!” she growled.

In a frenzy of wings she bore the harpy higher, throttling it until feathers fell like rain. The harpy screamed, bones popped, and the creature fell limp in Alis’ claws.

“Alis!” Moth called, but it was too late. She was already flying off, carrying her victim with her.

“Where’s she going?” asked Fiona.

Rendor stuffed his pistol back beneath his coat. “To deliver a message of her own, probably.”

Stunned, Moth watch her disappear into the darkness, winging her way toward Mount Oronor. He didn’t move until Jorian touched his shoulder. He held up his paint pot.

“Say it again, boy. Do you declare yourself a warrior of Pandera?”

Moth stiffened with resolve. “I do!”

As the gathering watched, Jorian traced his cool finger over Moth’s face. Purposefully, quickly, the centaur drew, as if Moth’s essence was perfectly clear to him now. Moth didn’t move, not even to blink. He felt the presence of something inside him, rising up like a…

Like a bird!

Jorian stepped back. Fiona looked at Moth and smiled. Skyhigh grinned with a knowing nod.

“What is it?” asked Moth. “It’s a bird, right?”

“It is a bird,” said Rendor. He came in for a closer look. “Yes, absolutely.”

“Ha! I knew it! What is it? An eagle? A hawk?”

“I know that bird,” said Skyhigh.

“Yeah?” Moth looked at each of them, puzzled. “Well? What is it?”

Fiona took his hand. Her painted face glowed with warmth. “It’s a kestrel, Moth,” she said. “Just like Lady Esme.”

ARTAIOS PASSED THE TWO REDEEMERS on guard outside the prison cave, peering inside. Moonlight flooded through the entrance, seeping through the bars at the other side of the small chamber. As Artaios’ eyes adjusted to the darkness, he caught a glimpse of Alisaundra balled up in the corner of her cell, head buried in her knees, wings wrapped like a blanket around her body.

Her return had shocked Artaios. So had the “gift” she’d dropped at Rakuiss’ feet. Rakuiss stood behind Artaios now, muttering in contempt.

“Look at her. Still just human garbage.”

The old General had begged for the honor to execute her. Artaios took a step into the prison cave, standing imperiously before the cell, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. Alisaundra had been driven mad by her closeness to Moth. Artaios understood that, even blamed himself a little. He wondered what it was like for her, caged in such an ugly body.

“Alisaundra,” he called softly.

He waited for her to lift her head. She did so shyly, her eyes peeking out from her arms.

“You murdered my messenger,” said Artaios. “Why?”

Her voice quavered. “Because—”

“Stand up!” barked Rakuiss. “You’re talking to the Prince of the Sky!”

Alisaundra rose shakily. She hooked her claws onto the silver chain around her waist, lowering her eyes to the filthy floor.

“Answer me,” said Artaios. “Why did you kill the harpy? Why did you betray me?”

“The boy maddened me, Great One. My head filled with human thoughts!” Alis put her claws to her temples. “So many voices! But I came to my senses. When I saw the harpy…” She raised her eyes pleadingly, looking only at Artaios. “My lord should never have such a filthy beast speak for him. I am your messenger! Seeing the harpy broke the human spell. I belong to you, sweet Artaios.”

Rakuiss snorted, unimpressed. “She betrayed you, Artaios. She has to die.”

Alis didn’t flinch. “If that is your wish I will do it myself. Give me a dagger and I will slice open my guts for you!”

“Lies,” hissed Rakuiss. “Kill her and be done with it, Artaios. We have work to do.”

Artaios thought a moment, considering Alisaundra’s pitiful face, the depth of her words. For years he had favored her, the brightest of all his Redeemers. Despite her crimes, he was glad she had returned.

“Do you wish to serve me, Alisaundra?” he asked. “Truly, is that the fondest dream of your heart?”

“Oh, yes, my lord,” sighed Alisaundra. “It is all I wish!”

“My lord, please! Don’t fall for this!”

“Wait,” counseled Artaios, smiling at his friend. “Wait.” He stepped closer to the cell, looking at Alisaundra through the bars. “There is a breastplate of armor, made for me by Ivokor himself. Within its metal is held the souls of seven Redeemers. All true servants, Alisaundra. My best, most beloved slaves. If you are truly repentent…”

“I will join them gladly, Master!” Alisaundra floated toward the bars. “Let me prove myself. Let me be your most devoted one!”

“You’ll give yourself freely? To live forever in a prison of metal?”

“Yes!”

“Swear it, Alisaundra.”

“I swear it, my lord!” Alisaundra grabbed hold of her chain again. “By this chain I swear it!”

“On your knees,” Artaios commanded.

Alisaundra dropped before the bars, bowing her head. “Tell me what I must do,” she begged. “Tell me how to please you forever.”