My Short Stories

daisyfrost

New member
I'm going to put all my short stories on this thread now so I don't have to make a new thread every time I write one. This first one's called Thunderbird.

My name is Kaythe. I live in a place called Thunderbird Crest, and all of the outsiders who come to our small village when I was very young asked about the name—and for some reason, they were never given a straight answer. When I got older, I finally understood why, as I answered them myself sometimes.

“Maybe it’s because a thunderbird used to live here,” I would say. “Three, in fact.” They might give me an awry look, or shuffle their feet nervously, sometimes leaving town faster than a newcomer normally would. Nobody liked to hear that there used to be thunderbirds around…and even if nobody told them, they would soon find something for themselves that they didn’t like and leave anyway. Newcomers didn’t last long here. And it wasn’t our fault. I myself missed the Thunderbirds terribly—when I was eight, and my bird Saria was sent away, I had thrown a horrible fit as if I were a small child. It had broken my heart.

But that was forever ago. And though outsiders might not last long here, our village had yet to grow.

I was leaning against the kitchen doorpost of the town kitchen. Meetings and parties were held there, in the center of town, like the one Mom was preparing for now—baked squash and smashed potatoes for the autumn festival. Soon the meat cooking would start to smell delicious too. Only it had been quite a barren year for produce this time around, so what were we all celebrating?

“Message, message!” A loud cry rang out close to my ear. A flipped around and saw our messenger standing at the doorway.

“What?” I gasped. My heart was already pounding. We were far away from civilization and a message for us was like…well, gold. Mom stopped cooking and the other woman with her scrambled into a little crowd to be the first to hear the good news—everybody always assumed it would be good news; even me, when I got excited enough. “What?!” I repeated. Apparently he’d been waiting for everyone to gather. At last he shouted,

“Captain Ertheron Benjust and his army are returning to the village! They will be here within a few hours!”
~**~
Two Hours Later
The crowd of us stood at the edge of town. We resolved to stay there until they came—the soldiers that had gone off twelve years ago, to fight the goblins. Apparently, that war was over now. I would finally get to meet my biological father—the strange man I’d heard about, who my mother seemed to despise and long for all at the same time. I didn’t understand how he could have left his wife and four-year-old to go off killing monsters, but she said it had been necessary. The goblins were stealing our food, hunting the thunderbirds, and killing babies. That was before the king had banished the thunderbirds, of course.

“Hey, I see something!” The watchman squinted through his telescope. “Dust! Horses! Flags!” we looked. All we could see was a very small black smudge far out west, but it made my blood race all the same, and the few people still preparing for the festival gathered ‘round too.

Eventually, they got close enough so we could see their heads and arms. A few of us decided to meet them halfway—they must be tired from such a long journey, Mom said, and to bring them a basket of fresh biscuits. I grinned as I hitched it on like a backpack and rode out with the others. A gleeful wind twisted around my pink ears.

Despite my excitement, the closer I got, the more afraid I felt. The only thing I remembered about my father was that he was big, and dark—would he even remember me? I had obviously changed. And after so many years of fighting, he might be horribly disfigured and frightening. Perhaps he wasn’t even in his right mind anymore, from all that goblin-slaughtering. Oh, how I wished to know for sure! Just a few more minutes, Kaythe. And then you’ll see…and then you’ll know.

As we drew closer, the others around me started cheering. We could see their faces now! I felt a rush go through me as I saw the leader, obviously, in his red-dipped cape unlike the others who wore solid black—the man who must be my father; he wore the armor of a general, and had a hood over most of his face. The sun shone from behind them as it began to set, and he was almost a silhouette. We stopped our horses and everyone started jumping off and greeting each other.
“Welcome home! Welcome home!” shouts of glee went up around me. The tired soldiers let themselves be hugged and gladly shook hands. Ertheron Benjust, my father, stood alone—and I made my way up to him shyly.

“Hello,” I said. He took off his hood.

“Hannah?” two strange blue eyes, the kind that were so pale they nearly looked blind in this light, squinted at me. His face was very tan—and a bit wrinkled, I thought, for his age. He had so many scars in such little space! Nevertheless, I could see a half-exposed tenderness behind the rough features and a faraway similarity with some of mine—or at least what I’d seen of myself from a water reflection. Thunderbird Crest has no mirrors.

“No, actually, I’m…her daughter. I’m your daughter.” I saw the surprise register on his face. “Um…want a biscuit?” I pulled one out of the basket and offered it to him. He studied me intently while he took the bread and chewed about half of it in one bite. Then the rest. He finally swallowed and said,

“Well, that makes more sense. ‘Cause I was gonna say…You haven’t aged a day!” He laughed loud, very loud. Apparently he wasn’t too bad, I guess, so I kind of laughed with him. “But your mom is still around, isn’t she? I mean, she isn’t…dead, is she?” He lifted a sad, prepared eyebrow.

“Oh no, of course not! She just baked these biscuits for you.” I handed him another one, not really sure what else to do with myself. He inhaled deeply and ate it like the last one. “Mmmmm, fresh food. I haven’t had any bread in twelve years.”

“Really?” I asked awkwardly. Every time one of spoke there was a strange silence in between.

“Nothing but wild meat and edible plants. That’s what was around. You know we were on our own out there, right? Killing those goblins…getting rid of that dragon…” His eyes flicked up to my surprised face. Dragon? He changed the subject. “We’d better get over to that little town of yours. There’s gotta be more than one person anxious to see me, right?” He chuckled. “Go tell your Mom I’m alright. All limbs intact.” He smiled.

“Okay,” I sighed. I didn’t want to go back yet. I was about to climb back on the horse, but then I thought of a better idea. “Hey…your horse must be really tired from coming so far, and everybody’s dying for you guys to get here. Why don’t you take Sunny?” I pet the palomino’s neck.

Ertheron looked a little unsure at first, but he said, “Well, I guess so. Ride this one slow, he’s had one too many battles I think.” I felt ready to explode with excitement. Ride! It woul;d have been enough just to walk the poor horse. But I got to ride him! He mounted my horse and galloped her back, while I mounted his stallion slowly and let him go as slow as he wanted.

“Hey, did he say you could do that?” One of the other soldiers asked me gruffly.

“Yeah,” I said, grinning broadly. “I’m his daughter.
~**~
That night was and autumn festival to remember—now we had something to celebrate for. First of all, every age group displayed something they’d been taught by an adult learned in the skill, and mine was fencing. It was like a play, too, since fencing isn’t much fun to watch if you’re just practicing like usual. We had a magician among us, and two fire artists, and in between acts there was food and dances and stories told by the soldiers in the firelight.

Everybody could eat as much as he wanted for once. Except there wasn’t as much food as usual, and all of those extra people were here, so it didn’t really work out like I’d planned. All of the fancier meats were gone before I could get more than a taste. “Farewell, sweet honey-dunked pork kabobs,” I lamented under a wild shrub. Me and my best friend had snuck off to a less populated spot with the last of the meat. He’d been my fencing partner on the stage tonight, and as usual, I had beat him. But he claimed in was only because of the play, and otherwise, he would have sliced me. He laughed at what I’d said.
“Well I know what we could do to distract ourselves,” he told me.

“From that kind of loss? I don’t think I can live another day without my sweetness, let alone…wait, what were you thinking?” I sobered up a little.

“We could totally sneak into the barn and fence with real swords.” He whispered it in my ear. I turned to face him. That sounded fantastic!

“But if we got caught…” I groaned.

“We’d be dead,” He grinned. “Wanna?”
~**~
The barn seemed extra-creepy and extra-dark tonight. Okkenek moved as silently as a cat and knew exactly where the weapons were being kept tonight. He and his father were the ones who’d helped the soldiers unload.

“Ooooh, this is awesome. Look, this one still has some blood on it!” He held it up with the lantern so I could shudder.

“I wonder why he didn’t clean it. Swords can rust too, you know,” I said.

“I don’t think he planned on using it again—like, maybe he was gonna display it? Dad said he heard them talk about basically retiring.”

“What? Who’ll protect us then? Hey, here’s another sword.” Its sheath hung on the side of my father’s saddle. Okkenek held the lantern up to see, and as I pulled it out, we both said,

“Whoa.”

“Is this a diamond sword?” I breathed, touching the crystal-clear blade. It was like smooth ice.

“They use those for killing dragons,” Okkenek said. We both looked at each other.
~**~
 
When we snuck back to the main party, we realized that what we’d left had wound down to almost nothing. All the fires were put out and the food was gone. Cold decorations hung in a chilled darkness, void of the people and the music and the glee. A couple of teenagers were grabbing the chairs and putting them away too.

“Where’d everybody go?” Okkenek asked. “We weren’t even gone that long!”

“Hey, look.” I pointed to the livestock barn, which had the glow of a warm flame coming from the inside. “I bet I know what happened,” I said. “All of the grownups wanted to have a private meeting, so they made all the kids pick up over here while they talk about secret grownup stuff in there!”

“Maybe,” Okkenek said. “Let’s go find out.” This particular buddy of mine was notorious for sneaking around and getting people into trouble.

I rolled my eyes.

“You know you want to,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Sure,” I said.
~**~
Okkie and I snuck in at different ends of the barn…just in case one of us was, by his luck, discovered. I quietly nestled myself between two piles of hay, in a spot above the ground where most of the food was stored. It was a great view, and once I was comfortable, I tuned my ears to the low but close voices below. Up till now they hadn’t been talking much.

“The vote has been made,” The elder of our village said. “The youths will be trained.” I didn’t understand. He continued. “And you, Captain Benjust, will you train the teenagers, in the art of war?” My jaw dropped. I looked where he was looking and found my father—unrecognizable as a clean, bare-chested, scarred man of muscle and…hair. Ewe. It hung dark and straight down to his shoulders, and grew on that big chest, which his massive arms crossed over.
 
“Yes, I will…but I have a request. I would like to train my daughter as my successor, the new captain in years to come.” I heard my mom gasp a little. She walked over to him and scowled into his face.

“You can’t do that,” she said. “Not to a sixteen-year-old you barely know.” I noticed that, like me, everyone else seemed especially attentive to my mother’s reaction. I waited to see how he would reply. He just chuckled. Mom said, “One or two conversations with her, within the past twelve years of her life, does not reveal to you her military capabilities.”

“Well no, but…she has that fire in her eyes,” Ertheron said, smiling faintly, and stepping closer, as if examining the maternal fire currently burning in Mom’s eyes. All was silent for a moment. “See?” He asked, turning to point somewhere up in the hay. Wait a minute…

Every head turned. A dozen gasps revealed my shame. Even though everyone could see me, I sunk miserably back into the straw.
~**~
If I thought that my life had changed yet, I was in for a treat—the worst was yet to come quickly, and my little embarrassment the night before was nothing compared to what was coming next.

We packed up our few necessities, and fallowed Ertheron out of town in a sad little line. Some of us didn’t know what was going on, because Okkenek was in the front with me and he can only gossip so fast. Ertheron was taking us to an old camp where he and his soldiers used to train—his army, by the way, had apparently gone out on some kind of hunting trip to make up for all the new mouths to feed and all the food we consumed at the party. I knew that if they were out hunting instead of getting reacquainted with their families, we must be pretty low on food. In fact, I think we’d taken the last of it with us when we set out with my father.

It had been a really bad harvest year.

“You’ve said your goodbyes. Don’t look back,” Ertheron announced to everybody. I looked back anyways, several times, before the group of parents bidding farewell to us disappeared behind a curve of tall, dusty cliff rock. “Kaythe,” he said to me. I turned. Ertheron gave me an I-told-you-not-to look, gentle though and almost melancholy. Then he said something that disgusted me. “It’s my turn.”

“Your turn for what?”

“For you.”

“I guess you didn’t look back, did you?” Ertheron gave me another look. I couldn’t tell if it was sad or angry, but I liked the idea of exploring what would piss him off. “You don’t get a turn.” He turned his face from me and looked forward again.

“We will visit the village every weekend. In the meantime you respect me, obey me, and you might just—” he stopped walking and held out both his arms to stop the rest of us.

“What?” I asked. I squinted to see what he was staring at. He whispered something untangeable. “Huh?” I tapped his shoulder awkwardly to get his attention. “You were saying?”

“I can’t believe it fallowed us.” I heard his sword coming out of its sheath. “Everybody, hide in the rocks!” He bellowed out at the top of his lungs. I Jumped back and screeched back at him, to see how he liked it. “Why?”

“Because there’s a dragon!” He yelled, running forward with his sword out. “Get out of here, all of you!”
~**~
Apparently, none of us quite believed him, because we all looked for a dragon over where he was running to before we fled. It strained my eyes and cupped my hand to see.

It was faint, it was far; but a small, dark, lumbering shape soaring towards us let me know that he spoke the truth. There was a dragon, for it could be nothing else, and it was appearing greater every second.

Holy crap. We had to run.

About two-thirds of the kids ran to the closest cavern entrance—a long, dark crack in the cliff that was usually not even approached by us at all, except for some very extreme games of truth-or-dare. There were bats and huge bugs in there. Maybe a wolf, or worse, a sand lion. But that didn’t seem too scary compared to a dragon, which none of us being this young had ever encountered. Even in the pitch blackness! But I was one of the few who sought higher ground, climbing up the cliff towards the old thunderbird nests where there were much safer, brighter, pleasanter caves. Too bad the climbing part took so long.

“I’m gonna get fried,” I kept whispering in a panic to myself over and over. “Right after Okkie the slow-pokie.” I glanced down. His childhood nickname still served him well; he was the closest climber to the ground. But at least he had the guts to climb the smooth, sometimes slippery stone. Die with courage, Okkenek!

He looked up to me looking down at him. His eyes were huge and wide, and as I was the highest climber, I saw everybody stop climbing. They were staring up.

Huge sounds of flapping wings made me not want to turn my head back. Of course, it wasn’t the soft sound that feathers make; it was a thick, leathery sound… like deer hides flapping on a clothesline. A great shadow passed over everything below. I looked up.
Oops.

Behind my fears, ands beneath the scream that pelted out of my mouth, I observed the large black scales of a colossal beast, clinging to the top of the cliff. I saw a tail, four dangling legs, and an angry head—aimed straight towards my father. Oh, my father! I snapped my head back. He was in one piece, drawing his bow. What good will that do, I thought. He let the arrow fly and the dragon above me screamed, a hideous roar, nearly knocking me down from the sides of the cliff. My ears rang after that. A drop of blood fell on my shoulder, and the dragon moved away, probably so it could torch my dad. I took the chance to climb up the rest of the mountain, and at the top, I waited for Okkenek.

“Come on!” I yelled, grabbing his arm as soon as he’d reached the top, and running with him, away—as far away as I could get.

The dragon had been making a lot of angry noises, but now it dramatized one angry roar and seemed to fade out after that. I stopped running. Has it got what it wanted? My heart throbbed with a new kind of fear. Has it killed Ertheron?

“Come on, Kaythe!” Okkenek tugged at my arm. I shoved his hand away, and started running in the opposite direction. Okkie didn’t fallow me, I saw him run off with the others, and I headed straight for the slide—it was something our village had build into the cliff A long time ago, and it was much faster and safer than climbing down.

As soon as my feet hit the bottom, I ran to him. He was on his knees, aiming a last shot at the monstrous shape soaring away—probably satisfied.

He shot, letting himself fall, though he pulled another arrow out of his quiver first. I could see him smile as the dragon cried out again. It had hit.

“Ertheron,” I said, starting to cry. The day I get him back is the day I am to lose him. I tried to lift him up, but he was too heavy and slippery with blood, so I held his hands.

“Mmm…Kaythe,” he groaned.

“Yes?” I whimpered.

“In my saddlebag there is a book with instructions, how to deal with this sort of thing. He’ll be back.”

“I’ll tell the soldiers.”

“Kaythe,” he said, “Go find a thunderbird. That’s our best chance.”

“D-dad,” I said strangely, since I probably wouldn’t again have the chance to address him as such, “The thunderbirds have left long ago.” I blinked to see better through my tears. The stone cliffs baked in the hot summer sun seemed a cold, lonely place now. “Are you dying?” I whispered.

“Maybe,” He murmured, “But I’ve been through worse.” I sniffed.

“So there’s hope?” I asked doubtfully.

“Always,” he said, but he closed his eyes and rested his head on the ground; he seemed ready to go. I noticed now that most of him from the chest down was black and charred. He was burnt, badly burnt.

“Please,” I said. “If you’ve been through worse, please…”

“Here,” he said, painfully pulling out something from a pocket in his shirt. It looked like an instrument. “It calls thunderbirds.” I took it from him, sniffing again.
 
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“Really?” I got up. “Dad, how much time do I have?”

“The dragon…will be back…tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I said, sniffing once more, and wiping my tears away with my sleeve. “I’ll be right back!” And I started running.
~**~
The next morning, my father was in a sickbed, apparently able to recover from his injuries, according to our doctor—and to my absolute relief. He said he would be able to smell a dragon coming from a while away, and I believed him—he’d proved it yesterday. So he would warn us.

While everyone watched, I stood on top of the cliffs closest to the village and blew the instrument Ertheron Benjust had given me—and waited. It sounds just like their own call to war, I thought.

I wasn’t sure if it would really work. Those thunderbirds we had banished so long ago, by the king’s heartless orders, would they hear us now? Would they know the call? Would they come? I waited. Atop the mountain, above the town’s hopeful gaze, I waited, and I watched.

The chill of the October air lifted strands of my black hair. I blew the instrument again, as long and hard and loud as I could, just like Ertheron had told me to do. I kept my fear at bay—the chance of the thunderbirds rejecting this ancient sound was low, Ertheron had said. It was designed to sound like the call they made when they were attacking something and needed help. And thunderbirds, if they were anywhere within a ten mile radius, would be capable of hearing it. I’d told him I wasn’t sure if they would be within ten miles of here by now or if they even existed anymore. He told me that Thunderbirds may be hidden somewhere, but that they never stray far from home.

A third and last time I blew the instrument, a desperate final cry, and heard my father yell,

“I smell the dragon! It’s coming back!” I held my ground anyway.

“Please, please,” I whispered to the wind. The people far below me were already getting into their carts and wagons with their belongings already packed. They were leaving. “No,” I said, “no!”

“Come down, Kaythe! Come down, and hurry!” My mother begged me from the bottom of the cliff. I turned away from the horizon and took a step towards the slide.

Again, like the day before, a large shadow passed over me. But there were no sounds of great leathery flapping wings, nor was there a malicious cry above my head. And the shape was…smaller. Softer.

I looked up.

Saria.
 
“Really?” I got up. “Dad, how much time do I have?”

“The dragon…will be back…tomorrow.”

“Okay,” I said, sniffing once more, and wiping my tears away with my sleeve. “I’ll be right back!” And I started running.
~**~
The next morning, my father was in a sickbed, apparently able to recover from his injuries, according to our doctor—and to my absolute relief. He said he would be able to smell a dragon coming from a while away, and I believed him—he’d proved it yesterday. So he would warn us.

While everyone watched, I stood on top of the cliffs closest to the village and blew the instrument Ertheron Benjust had given me—and waited. It sounds just like their own call to war, I thought.

I wasn’t sure if it would really work. Those thunderbirds we had banished so long ago, by the king’s heartless orders, would they hear us now? Would they know the call? Would they come? I waited. Atop the mountain, above the town’s hopeful gaze, I waited, and I watched.

The chill of the October air lifted strands of my black hair. I blew the instrument again, as long and hard and loud as I could, just like Ertheron had told me to do. I kept my fear at bay—the chance of the thunderbirds rejecting this ancient sound was low, Ertheron had said. It was designed to sound like the call they made when they were attacking something and needed help. And thunderbirds, if they were anywhere within a ten mile radius, would be capable of hearing it. I’d told him I wasn’t sure if they would be within ten miles of here by now or if they even existed anymore. He told me that Thunderbirds may be hidden somewhere, but that they never stray far from home.

A third and last time I blew the instrument, a desperate final cry, and heard my father yell,

“I smell the dragon! It’s coming back!” I held my ground anyway.

“Please, please,” I whispered to the wind. The people far below me were already getting into their carts and wagons with their belongings already packed. They were leaving. “No,” I said, “no!”

“Come down, Kaythe! Come down, and hurry!” My mother begged me from the bottom of the cliff. I turned away from the horizon and took a step towards the slide.

Again, like the day before, a large shadow passed over me. But there were no sounds of great leathery flapping wings, nor was there a malicious cry above my head. And the shape was…smaller. Softer.

I looked up.

Saria.
 
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