Eire of Aggression

  4

  Under a cloudy Verden dawn, an unlikely group of fae gathered atop a sturdy section of ramparts that were part of the Ballinfol Castle ruins. The morning sun slipped beams through the broken overcast sky that tinted varied ribbons of faded peach and mauve on the leaden background above them.

  The soft rays also shone upon a few of the beautifully feathered wings of the ten harpies in attendance, which enriched the hues of their individual plumes.

  Two high-borne fae stood nearby, facing the harpies. Oriana Solemn Sight, the sprite whom they'd recently met, whispered a few private words with the short fae next to her before she made formal introductions. "Neoteric harpies of the neutral lands, this is Gideon the morpher, the fine fae I spoke of to you." She turned her head to him, noticing that he continued to gaze openly upon them. She hoped the awkwardness wouldn't last long. "Gideon, these are the splendid low-caste that I made mention of in the message I sent."

  Galatea led the other harpies as she spread her lustrous white wings and bowed her head, letting her long, milky hair flow down. "Greetings, master morpher," she said respectfully, despite her reservations. The other harpies followed suit as they bowed their heads and murmured the same words.

  His light brown eyes wide, Gideon tried to take in their collective exotic appeal. He had never seen creatures that could compare to them; clever and proud harpies, although with touches of beauty that he found captivating. Some still had large, ugly ears common to their race, while others had hooked noses or sallow skin that one would also expect. Yet mixed with those traits were beautiful faces, alluring eyes, curvaceous forms, and striking plumage. "Cad a chaith álainn," he said softly to himself.

  The harpies glanced at each other uncertainly and then back to Gideon and Oriana, some of them with the narrowed eyes of wariness; the little morpher seemed to take no notice.

  "Chaith álainn?" Oriana asked him. "I'm glad you think so. Perhaps they will as well."

  "'Ky - allin', he said, elder?" Galatea asked as she took a tentative step forward. "We know a handful of Verden languages, but are unfamiliar with those words. Might we inquire their meaning?"

  "It is of the old language here in the Eire, meaning 'beautiful cast'." She turned to the morpher. "Cast, Gideon? Do you refer to these creatures as a theatrical troupe?"

  "If I might suggest, elder," said a gorgeous, dusky-hued harpy with a silky voice, "your cohort might also be referring to the avian definition. The word 'cast' is also used in reference to a group of predatory birds; as in, 'a cast of hawks' - the proper terminology. We are - or were - more often compared to Verden vultures, but the intended meaning is not lost on us."

  "Ah," Oriana nodded, "then I'm sure there was no slight meant."

  Just as the harpies nodded in cautious appreciation, Gideon expounded on the explanation. "Far from it, says I. Never have such striking creatures graced me eyes, I tell ye true. Cunning, exotic... glorious; the words jump from me gaping gob, they do. Femmes fatales in fine feathered forms, ye be; what a wonder."

  Unsure how to react to the morpher's candid praise, the harpies remained reserved. Fiamma - a harpy with an unfortunate face, but also with dazzling ruby eyes, crimson wings and fiery red hair - moved next to Galatea. With a stern voice, she said, "All respect given, master morpher, but if you mean to toy with us and lower our guard, then you'll find that we are not so easily deceived. We are still harpies, and plying us with flattery is a tactic that has never worked to gain our allegiance or servitude."

  Gideon was alarmed by her words. "There be no ruse here, red maiden, nor a game played - by the elements, I swear it! Only grand admiration in words that do no justice, says I. There's just enough reason in me head ta know flowered words not be dullin' yer sharp wits, even if those words be true. I'll be expectin' no commitment or grand service, but we be given a chance to repay injustices; I'd be wantin' those who share me quest ta know me mind, I would."

  Oriana stepped behind Gideon; she placed a hand on his shoulder and regarded the harpies from over his curly white hair and goat horns. "On my oath," she said to them, "his aura is pure with truth and respect."

  The harpies traded looks among themselves, some with grins forming.

  Gideon turned his head and looked up at Oriana. "Pure with truth, is it? Now, that might be a first."

  Amused, Oriana smiled down at him and shook her head. Many of the harpies were grinning as well; some of them even chuckled. Gideon laughed along with them.

  Fiamma, the red-haired harpy, approached the two high-borne. Standing just taller than Gideon, she looked him in the eye and said. "Please understand my former apprehension, master morpher. Now known that your adulation held no guile, I thank you for it. You are... very kind... to say such things. Your particular candor thaws our cold hearts."

  Gideon was surprised to hear such heartfelt words from a harpy. He was about to respond when his voice caught in his throat. As Fiamma stood in front of him, her features began to smoothly shift. Sunken cheeks rose to a fine, feminine shape; cruel teeth straightened and became pearly white. "Elements take me," he whispered in astonishment. Fiamma smiled demurely at his reaction.

  Oriana leaned closer to one of Gideon's long tapered ears and quietly said, "You see the curse in action."

  "Curse, me dimpled arse!" he exclaimed. "Bollocks! That be a gracing of sorts, it is! Some right eejit got the intent of their bane twisted, says I. And to the betterment of the finest of the low-caste, I tell ye true." He looked directly at Fiamma. "Yer smile now be matchin' yer spirit, it does; I be grateful to ye for it, milady."

  "It is decided, then," Galatea said in a proud tone. "We will not eat you for breakfast." Gideon wasn't sure to laugh along with the harpies or not, but did manage a nervous grin. He thought their velvety, musical voices more than compensated for their dark humor.

  Oriana lightly stepped forward and placed gentle fingers on both Gideon's and Galatea's shoulder. "I am pleased to leave you both in fine company. I have enjoyed this gathering, but unsavory duties await me and I must hasten away."

  "Must ye now?" Gideon asked. "Ah, well, all good things pass, they do."

  Oriana looked down at Gideon with a wistful smile. "If it was possible to bestow Lore providence from one fae to another, I would offer my best hopes for your own impending quest. However," Oriana said as she turned to face Galatea, "low-borne, if not already in servitude, may be recipients of such. I therefore impart to you and your sisters good luck, in both your mission of retribution as well as the solace you deserve."

  After the harpies murmured their thanks, Oriana stepped back along the narrow rampart and opened a gate. Regarding them all, she said, "May you fare well," before stepping out of the human dimension.

  There was a moment of silence after the sprite elder's departure until Gideon piped up. "That one pined for me a time ago, she did. Poor lass; but let her down softly I did, I tell ye true."

  "Of course she did," said Galatea. "It must have been that round little belly of yours that charmed her, no doubt."

  He looked at the harpies and was met with disbelieving smirks. "Aye, that and more, "Gideon replied with an impish grin and wiggle of his bushy white eyebrows. "Here in the Eire it was - me favorite of lands. Untitled then, the lady Oriana called to the grand avian o'er her head - that bein' me. Swooped down, I did, further takin' her breath with me graceful flight. Then did she bid me come to her haven and frolic, and sore tempted to go was I. Knowin' it was only me masculine air that swooned her, I couldn't be takin' advantage of her virtuous nature, as the truth of it. So I be sayin' to lady Oriana that me heart must remain free fer its match, as must hers. And so it be; she keeps her pride and I keep on me gallant ways."

  "How refreshing," remarked a large harpy who was colored in rich shades from cream to brown; she stood on her stone perch on the rampart wall and quickly continued. "The good morpher's lies are so outrageous that I find myself entertained."

  "If it be entertainment ye be wantin'," Gideon
said with a somber tone, "we'll be havin' our fair share of it soon enough, we will. When we start carryin' out our own payback, we'll be drunk with the pleasure of it, says I."

  "Now might be a good time to explain what it is exactly you are requesting of us," Galatea said. "We were promised retribution against the schemes of the elder Saraid Moon Maiden, but not in what form it would take."

  "Then let me tell as I have been told." Gideon pointed out to the southwest, where dark morning clouds gathered anew. "Not far out that way is a village called Ballaghadaere; it be a place rich with good tidings and glamour, full of friends and family, I tell ye true. And close to me heart it be for long and long. Progeny of fae even reside there, so I hear. And, the ether also lies thin; many a fae - low-caste and high-borne alike - be makin' havens thereabouts, with me self as part of that count."

  "If the place you describe is for some strange reason our target of retribution," a golden-haired harpy said, "then I admit my reluctance to raze such a place... if it is as you say."

  "No, no! By the elements, no, says I. The place be as I say - all serenity and charm, it is. But now the village and lands about it be plagued; sour fae and their foul intent to inflict the worst of luck, they be. Aye," Gideon said, nodding to them, "gremlins they be, and with their vile master lurkin' about. That same one be in league with the Moon Maiden, he be, and does his deeds by her bidding. It be so, as sworn to me. We all be asked to remove that... that... unnatural, unwholesome taint."

  The morpher's information made the harpies take noticeable interest; neither low-caste race involved was fond of the other. "An intriguing affair," Galatea calmly said, "and it certainly holds appeal for us. But, good morpher, with all due respect... I'm sure you have other strong talents. It is only that -"

  "I don't appear the warrior type, is it?" When she nodded, Gideon smiled to show that no insult was taken. "I'll be tellin' of me martial tales another time, I will," he said. "Suffice it to say that me skills be fittin' this type of outing more than some hardened combatant, says I. Me brother Kazimir offered a few reminders of tactics fer what I'd be havin' in mind."

  "You have a brother named Kazimir?" one of the harpies asked.

  "Ah, well, most of me race consider each other kin of sorts, but far removed if they go provin' themselves to be... eh, the unsavory type, I tell ye."

  Galatea closed her brilliant white wings together to clasp her clawed digits together. "So," she said, "we assume this will be no frontal attack. How do you wish to proceed?"

  "Ye have it right, me fine mare." Gideon explained his plan while slowly walked through their number, looking each harpy in the eye as he moved along. "The goblins be spread through that area, causin' their mayhem. We'll not use their ways, although I'm knowin' you'd be up to that task. No, we be sendin' scouts, make sure one of them bat-winged bastards be alone, and then strike in force."

  "In force," Galatea repeated him thoughtfully. "That sounds... appealing."

  Happy that he had their interest, Gideon pressed on. "Hard and fast, says I, and it'll be no more than they deserve. We'll not be strikin' fear into their ugly hearts - just their ugly hearts alone. No banishment for them blighters, says I; we take one down once and fer all, and move on to the next. It may take time, but I'll be keepin' ye fed and find ye glamour should ye need it. I'd even find ye better attire than those drab rags, should ye choose it. On all this, ye have me word."

  "You'll gather dresses for us?" asked Fiamma with a surprised expression. "Even without us being in servitude to you?"

  "Ye deserve no less, says I - that sad get-up does ye no justice. But back to it - gowns come later. I'll be wantin' us to be sendin' a message to Saraid with our deeds, I will. By the end of our quest, I'll be wantin' the goblin's master all alone and wonderin' what the feck happened to his minions. Worse yet, I'll be wantin' all of us to be lookin' into those scared eyes, lettin' him know the answer is Gideon and a party of stunnin' harpies."

  "Chaith álainn," Galatea said with a widening smile, "You may refer to us as chaith álainn. Given our location, and that they were your fine words, it seems appropriate... and complimentary. When can we begin this quest?"

  "By the elements, Galatea, keep yer calm, says I. Have ye never heard of food? I tell ye true, I've only had just one meal this mornin'."