FLYERS

As morning opened its sleepy eyes and daylight crept in and physically assaulted Rabato’s brain, he quickly realized two things: first, it would be a lovely day with a clear sky and a wind in his favor. Second, he wished he could sleep a bit longer. He was exhausted from the flight during the previous four days, but his duty was necessary.

He opened his eyes and stretched his wings to their full length. It was not safe to sleep during the day – if the hunters saw a sleeping Flyer lying in a tree, they could end your waking days with one shot; you would never know what hit you.

Standing on the branch where he had slept for the past few hours, he decided to return one day; this tree, specifically this huge branch, was very comfortable and secure from most dangers. Maybe one day, he thought, he would rest here again. He would like to show his children this resting place if the hunters ever stopped trying to kill the Flyers.

The planet Mora spawned three intelligent species. The Mammals who walked upright as the Flyers, the Swimmers who slipped through the waters of the vast oceans, and the Flyers who soared on the planet’s breath.

The Mammals decided they were the dominant form of life on the planet. But they were stuck with a life on the ground. They could not float on the wind like the Flyer race nor glide through the water like the Swimmers.

Rabato scornfully thought that a life walking the dirt was no life.

Rabato was headed home. He made the second of his two Rolan deliveries to the top of Mount Kilama, as he did every sixth month. The Ushers deliver the sacrificial offering four times a year, each taking two flights back-to-back. This was his second return trip; he had never used this path before.

Still, when he arrives home, he will rest and take on the other duties of a Reverent Usher until his next turn. The trip was long and strenuous, taking nearly 5 days. The Ushers chose to fly well past sunset and stop to rest for several hours when possible. The Rolan trip was a pilgrimage for his Flyer race; it was more than a simple journey. It honored all who came before and all who were to come.

Taking turns with the other Ushers was safer and better on the body. Each flyer had a preferred route that was completely different from the others’. Not using the same path twice in one year was smart – otherwise, the mammals would get to know the route and pick you off easily. Their weapons could only do damage if you were flying close enough to the ground, 2 or 3 grolcas or so, and they were well-aimed.

Thankfully, no Flyer has been killed in more than a year. The last to fall at the hands of the Mammals was Rabato’s nestling; her name was Rogenma. She and Rabato have been very close since hatching. Unfortunately, Rogenma was the first of their generation to fall into eternal sleep. The Mammals’ weapons are improving, and the arrows can go farther, creating danger when near the dirt.

Rabato stepped off the branch, a top branch in the tree roughly two or so grolcas off the dirt, and moved his wings without thought. As he began to gain altitude, he heard a sound below and saw in the brush the tell-tale sign that mammals were trying to hide in what seemed to be artificial bushes. He veered to the right, diving to gain velocity. Then he abruptly pulled to the left, flapping as hard as possible, rapidly gaining altitude and putting distance between him and the mammals. Just as he began to feel safe – that he was out of danger – he heard a thunderous pop, and something whizzed past his right ear. He pulled to the left and flapped even harder, adrenaline coursing through his body.

He had to be more than four grolcas from them now, and he was unaware of a weapon that could reach more than one or two grolcas off the ground. He had never heard such a loud sound before in his life as the noise these deadly instruments make when flinging their tiny arrows into the sky. Perhaps the Mammals had developed a new weapon? That thought scared him.

“I do not understand what they are using?” Robato said out loud, “But I should have known that the creative mammals would find a new way to injure or kill those not like them.”

He was perhaps 8 or 9 grolcas from the ground now and thought himself safe. But then another loud pop sounded; he did not know what to do. He felt pain in his right hindquarters, and when he looked, he saw the pastel orange fluid of life slowly oozing from a perfectly round hole in his flesh, staining his feathers.

Thankfully, it seemed like he found the farthest point at which the weapon could damage a Flyer. Yes, it hurt, but if he were closer to the ground, it would have gone through him, injuring internal organs and forcing him to land and hide, or worse. On the other hand, as the hunting party intended, he could have been killed and fallen to the ground only to end up on the dinner table or above the hearth at the home of some hunter. Neither sounded appealing.

Rabato used the thermals, air currents, and wings to increase altitude. He looked down and estimated he was 14 grolcas up. He heard more pops, quieter now, and no longer heard the whizzing, so he felt safe. His body hurt. He found it amazing how, when one portion of the body, a section not in use, is injured, the rest is drained of its strength. He would maintain this altitude until he reached the village. It was the best altitude, anyway. It was easier to maintain a flight level than to attain a greater level, especially as weak as he was starting to feel.

He would be home with his mate Toloma and their three children soon. He needed to stay aloft for several more hours. It was not that he could remain in flight. He had to remain in flight. The others needed to know about the new weapons, and he needed to get home. That was his thought, his driving force, to return to his family.

Betema, his first daughter, was nearly 12 years old and ready to seek a mate. His son, Kolato, was a year behind her, 11 years, and already making a name for himself as a protector. He would be a leader one day, perhaps even the chief protector. Lastly, his youngest, the eggling, still clung to his mate most of the time. Diroma is her name, but he called his littlest daughter D’ma.

Knowing he was losing fluid and getting weaker, he thought more of his family. After several hours, he realized he was close to his village. He would be there soon. He had to make it. He should arrive before nightfall. He was getting exhausted and thought he would not be able to go on. Then he heard a familiar voice. Someone was flying next to him. It was Rogenma, his nestling. In his state, he accepted she was there.

“Rabato, you were always such a strong flyer. What happened?”

“The Mammals injured me. I cannot go on.” He replied, not realizing he was speaking to a shadow.

“You must, for if you do not, no one at home will know of the new weapons the Mammals possess, and some may not survive the next encounter.”

The conversation renewed his spirit, and he was able to continue. They talked on the flight as they did when they were young. Rabato enjoyed the discussion with his nestling; it took his mind off his pain, weakness, and thoughts of rest.

As he approached the village, he saw his son was on patrol. Kolato moved away, informing the leaders that his father was returning injured. When he did make it to the ground, he had all the help he needed. They would do everything they could to ensure he survived. Still, they needed to know what happened. The Mammals have a new, devastating weapon with a reach far greater than any previously known.

Rabato thought he was telling the elders everything, but they could only make out a few words. He had lost a significant amount of fluid and was near his end. He grabbed his son’s wing and looked him in the eye. He tried to speak, but sleep came over him instead.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the inside of his home. He jumped up with such force that he scared his mate, who was asleep beside him. Then, the pain in both his legs and his head reminded him of the journey he had taken.

“How long have I been home?” He asked his mate.

“Several days,” she paused briefly. “What happened out there?” She asked.

“I learned the mammals have a new weapon that can kill from a distance of 10 grolcas. I was struck,” glancing at his hind leg, “….on my return flight.”

“Did you make the sacrifice?”

“Yes. As always.” He smiled at her and lay his head on her breast. “Thanks to Rogenma, I had the strength to make it home to you.”

She stroked his head and neck until he fell back to sleep. She was confused by Rogenma’s statement, but they would speak again in the morning. Tomorrow, he could warn everyone about the new weapons. This must be the last time any Flyer would encounter this improved Mammal weapon.