The Bird and the Wyrm-Chapter 58

Hearing you say that you loved me, it filled me with this incredible happiness that even now hasn’t gone away. I was sad of course that you, ultimately, still rejected me, but just knowing that you felt the same way about me made all the difference.

Who cares if you rejected me right now?

You already liked me, so that was half the battle already won. Now I just needed to figure out how to change your mind...

"You know," I started, "I think... Wait. Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

I sat up and turned my head back and forth. I could definitely hear something, but I wasn’t sure what it was. "Hold my clothes," I said and started to strip.

"What is it?"

"I can hear something, but I’m not sure what. I can fly us down to check," I explained as I started to take off my pants.

You grabbed my hands and pulled them away. "I’ll show you how to get down," you said as you pulled my shirt down over my head. It was just a glimpse, but I’m pretty sure your cheeks were pink. A certain strategy began to present itself in my mind.

"Okay," I said. "Lead the way."

The way down from the roof was pretty out there with bits that needed you to jump with just the right amount of momentum from one foothold to another. I can fly, so finding you up on the roof was easy, but I really had to wonder how you’d found the way up to the roof in the first place.

"Careful once you reach this part. It’s slippery-"

"Ah!"

You caught me round the middle and pressed my back against the wooden column. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah," I replied. "I’m okay." I was seriously regretting not insisting on flying us down.

"Just a little further," you said. Then you did something rather unexpected.

You kissed me on the cheek.

"Don’t be scared."

This was the second time you’d ever kissed me on the cheek, so there was precedent, but after everything you’d said earlier, it really took me by surprise. I nodded and half-climbed, half-floated behind you all the way down.

What was all that earlier about rejecting me?! If I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have believed it. What’s with all the sudden affection and can I have some more?

I followed after you down a set of creaky stairs and into an empty courtyard. Far away I could still hear the beating sound of a drum.

"Can you hear it now?" I asked.

"That’s an alarm," you said. "Something’s wrong." You took my wrist and set off at a hurried pace towards the sound. "Do everything you can to stay safe, okay?"

"I will if you do."

You glared at me. "I will, so don’t do anything reckless."

"Okay."

"It’s probably going to get chaotic. If you can’t find me, then stick to Aunt Yeung or Gou Ngaam. They’re the strongest here so they’ll be able to look after you."

I caught your arm with my other hand and pulled us to a stop. Each beat of the drum echoed through the wooden buildings and I could hear shouting and clanging metal. "You don’t be reckless either."

You put a hand over mine. "I won’t."

In that moment, I really did believe you.

"Okay, let’s go find out what’s happening..."

--

The main atrium and courtyard to the manor was filled with dark smoke and floundering bodies.

Bran ducked a wide swing and dragged Misha closer to his side to help him avoid another.

Cloud Flame Manor was under attack. The fact made Bran’s mind reel. He couldn’t think of another time when this had happened - the place was too well hidden and too well protected for most to think about attacking it, even if they knew of its existence.

That wasn’t to say that there was no motivation to ransack the place. Rumours over the years painted the place as an absolute treasure trove of ancient manuscripts detailing lost and forbidden arts, rare herbs that granted near immortality, and priceless stones that could aid in the craziest of spells.

Was that it?

Bran heard the whistle of Gou Ngaam’s double sided blade and pulled Misha towards it. Before speculating on the ’whys’ of the situation, his first priority was to get Misha to safety. Once that was done, then he could worry about other things.

"Gou Ngaam!"

The snake woman spiraled, splitting three assailants in two then landed beside Bran and Misha. "Quick, into the main temple! Find your aunt!"

Bran nodded and pulled Misha onward.

The pair of them had seen the attackers properly now, but Bran doubted Misha understood what he saw.

The assailants were black and smokey, made of a part-air, part-oozey substance with jagged blades in their hands.

"They’re puppets!" Bran shouted back to Misha as they ran up the stairs toward the main temple. "They’re not real people!"

One of the smoke puppets darted away from its opponent, a young man who worked in the kitchens and was wielding a meat cleaver, and sped towards Bran and Misha.

Misha reacted first and swung Bran backwards as he used the momentum to spin a kick at the creature’s side.

The creature dropped its sword with a clatter then evaporated.

"Is that normal?" Misha asked.

"Who knows," replied Bran. "C’mon. Into the temple."

Misha had had a feeling as he’d walked around that day that there was something spiritual or religious about the place though this was his first time actually entering a temple.

Bran pushed the door open and a cloud of incense billowed out. A pair of clawed hands reached out from within it, grabbed the pair of them, and dragged them in.

Misha fell to the floor coughing. A hand patted him on the back and when he he could breath again he got up from his knees.

Like the name suggested, this place really was a temple with a long table for offerings in the middle of the space and a large golden statue to the back though the light was too dim for Misha to make out who or what it was a statue of. There were candles all over the place but each was too small to make much of an impact to the inky blackness.

"Bran, Misha, are you well?" asked an older man with large white bird wings on his back. His features reminded Misha of the little bird boy he’d played hide-and-seek with. Perhaps this was his father, or some other relative.

"We’re fine," replied Bran. "Where’s Aunt Yeung?"

"Good. Misha should rest your wound," the man said to Misha. "Bran, your aunt is waiting for you in the inner chamber."

"Got it."

Bran turned to Misha. "I’ll wait here," said Misha before he could say anything.

"Alright. Stay safe."

"I will," Misha promised.

It was dark so no one saw Bran’s hand slide down Misha’s wrist and hook momentarily among Misha’s fingers, but Misha felt it. He felt it deeply.

"Good."

--

Zhan sat down heavily on the rock and closed his eyes and just tried to breath. He hated traveling. It didn’t matter if it was a short distance or a long one, if it involved a car, train, plane, or teleportation ring, it was guaranteed to make him nauseas to his ancestor’s bones.

"Oh... You’re doing better than last time," said Morgan as he crouched beside the boy and looked on with interest.

"No... more..." gasped Zhan. "I... don’t care... how far it... is." He quickly cupped a hand to his mouth.

Morgan waited, hands folded on his knees.

"I’m... walking," Zhan finished.

Morgan gave him a friendly pat on the back (one that threatened to release the still building stomache fluids) and stood. "Not to worry," he said, neatly side stepping Zhan’s offering to nature as it hit the grassy ground with a wet splat. "We couldn’t teleport even if you wanted to. The formations here are too tight and neat."

Zhan stepped away from his mess and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Heh, so not even the great Morgan le Fay can best its castor. Impressive."

The man Morgan’s eyes went cold and it took a moment for him to compose himself. "Indeed," he said with a smile to Zhan’s dismay.

Just what did it take to properly get under the man’s skin? Zhan wondered.

He stretched and let the bells on his wrist ring out into the forest around them. The echoes bounced and returned to him, giving him a rough sketch of the terrain. He enjoyed trying to belittle the man but Zhan knew that it took more than just raw talent to land them right where they were, so close to their target, not that he’d ever admit it.

"The manor should be up that way," he said, pointing. "There are still more formations, but I can hear a void of noise that way which means that’s where we should head."

"They’re concealing even their sound? These Whale Toes people really are quite paranoid," said Morgan. "I’m sure you’d make good friends with them."

"No more than you," replied Zhan.

The pair looked at each other with dagger sharp smiles.

Finally Morgan looked away and Zhan took it that he had won... whatever it was they were competing in.

"Can this mist cover our ascent up the mountain?" Zhan asked.

Morgan raised a hand and let the wispy coils of white crawl over it. "Maybe, maybe not. More likely not. But it won’t hurt."

It won’t hurt. In Zhan’s book, that was good enough.

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