Dark Stag Ch. 02

There was one large crimson backed goshawk, bored in her kennel. She stood two and a half feet tall, three feet long, with a wingspan just over six feet. Weighing six pounds, she was the size of a small eagle. I entered the kennel and untied her anklet from the post. It truly bothered me at the fact that she was tied up. I could tell she wasn't too big of a problem.

Placing my forearm before her, she hopped onto the thick heavy glove, wings relaxed, ready to take wing. She stood eager for me to put on her hood. I walked out of the kennel, taken aback by the sight. A tall, milky skinned, black haired, fiercely chiseled, black leather sporting young man stood with a falcon on his mitt. He hooded the bird, turning to me.

"Good luck with that bird." He smiled, leaving the Aviary. He was followed by other long wingers wearing similar tight leather clothes. None were as gorgeous as him though. I saw him before, but forgot who he was. In fact, he was at the brunch the other day but I didn't know his relation to the king.

Weakened by his rugged beauty, I walked out of the rear exit of the Aviary where the training stands were. I placed the goshawk on a bow and took her hood off. She squealed in excitement. Her wings flexed as she looked around the soft grass. She was ready to take wing.

Taking several steps back, placing a bechin on the glove. Her keen eyes locked onto the piece of red meat. As fast as her wings could carry her, she flew towards me, landing on my fist quickly gulping the four grams of meat.

"Bow." I said. She flew back to her perch, wings hanging once again. She whistled quartets, unique for the species. She obviously was hungry. I placed another bechin onto my glove. This time she didn't take off. She bobbed her head, waiting for a command.

"Wing." I said. She leapt off the perch, flying inches above the ground, approaching forty miles an hour. Seemingly within the same second, she was on my fist, gulping down the meat. I stroked the feathers on her breast as she stood waiting for a command.

"Bow..." I said. She took off once again, flying back to the bow. I repeated this for several minutes, placing much more distance between she and I. Eventually, I ended up two hundred feet away. She got time to really flex her wings while getting quite a work out. However, she only flew so fast because she was hungry. Not to mention, she wasn't flown daily, a big mistake for a short wing. Short wings were high energy, and must be flown until they are about to burst from exhaustion daily. If not, they act rather clingy, giving the misconception that they need affection when in truth, they need exercise.

This was a classic physically under-stimulated bird but a very emotionally over-stimulated bird. It angered my as to why it wasn't flown daily.

"Hey that's my hawk!" I heard someone call out. A young man about seventeen or eighteen came running out of the rear of the aviary as his bird flew to the bow several hundred feet away. I looked him, full of cruel judgment.

"Why don't you fly her daily?" I asked bluntly.

"I do fly her daily!" He said defensively.

"You're lying. It's why she's all over you one minute and snappy the next. She is hardwired to fly and you need to do this with her at least an hour a day." I responded.

"How do you know she does that?" He asked, shocked but intrigued.

"I know short wings. They are high energy and of all the raptors, they need to be flown daily for long periods. Not only that but they have the strongest prey drive of all raptors and must feel the exhilaration of the kill. I got to think of something for these short wings... This is just pathetic. Are all the short wings yours?" I asked, placing another bechin of meat onto the glove.

"No, I have two, this rufus back and a black sparrowhawk." He said.

It's thirteen damn short wings in that aviary. Who else has any? And why would you get a goshawk when you're obviously not experienced enough to handle one? These are the birds of masters...you're obviously not even an apprentice yet, making rooky mistakes like this!" I said with scolding fire in my tone.

"It was a gift...I didn't ask for the damn thing! I was going to sell her to a hunter because I couldn't manage her like I could the micro." He retorted.

"WING!" I yelled. The goshawk came back on stiff, almost automated wing beats, covering the distance at speeds approaching forty miles an hour. She landed on my fist gulping down the meat, "There's no reason you shouldn't be pushing fifty miles an hour. I got to build you some wing strength."

"You can tell speed just by eyeing the bird?" The boy asked amazed.

"Yeah, I've been doing this for twelve years." I told him, "BOW!"

"You look my age!" He said.

"I am your age."

"You have a raptor?" He asked.

"Yes."

"What kind?"

"Long wing..."

"Oh, so you're one of those types. I can't stand the middle prince and his entourage. They prefer falcons, swift kites, and bat hawks and act like all other birds are inferior. But, they are some talented falconers." He said. I turned to look at him, unsure why he felt the need to group me with people I didn't even know.

"No, I don't affiliate with anyone here except the eldest prince. I'm helping him train his long wing which is arguably the only challenge here."

"What kind of long wing do you have?" He asked.

"WING!" I yelled, the goshawk flying towards me landing onto my fist. I hooded the bird after it gulped down the meat and began making my way back to the Aviary, "I'm not sure what kind of long wing she is, but she has the fastest flat speed I've seen on a raptor. Her hunting style is like a mix between a falcon and a goshawk and so are her aesthetics."

"Can I see her?" He asked. I turned to look at him as I opened the door. He was one of few people I've encountered so far with passion for 'falconry'.

"Sure."

I put his raptor back on her perch and she began feaking on the long metal rod.

"Hey girl." The boy said as he went in to pet her. The bird hissed and snapped its beak at her. He jumped back, frustrated with the bird. It was clear this happened a lot. I couldn't help but laugh.

"That's not wise." I said.

"She used to let me pet her but now she doesn't." He sighed.

"Short wings are just not affectionate. Constant petting can come off as kind of threatening to such an alert raptor. Just fly her often and keep affection to a minimum and you should see a much happier bird. Feaking, that rubbing of her beak on an object is a sign of content." I clarified.

"I'm Jon." He said, extending out his hand. I shook it.

"Nice to meet you, Jon, call me Kijus." I smiled.

"So when are you going to show me this raptor of yours?" He asked, smiling back.

"When can I stick my foot up the ass of the other short wing owners?"

"I'll make sure they are all here tomorrow." He said back, "I really want to see your raptor."

"Come on then."

I lead him through the front of the Aviary, surprised by the long wing horseback coursing that was going on. It was an elaborate game where a very trained long wing, a falconer and a horse teamed up with another rider and falcon to keep a lure away from another team. Since it was the end of the day, the raptors were not overheating and their training seemed immaculate. This was all very impressive.

Jon stood beside me with an eye roll.

"I hate them." He said.

"They're that bad?" I asked.

"They are just arrogant snobs, especially Richard. He thinks that because he's the King's son he can push everyone around. I just avoid him like he's a nasty spill." Jon answered.

"Well, lingering doesn't seem like the brightest idea. Come on." I said.

"You don't keep your bird in the Aviary?" He asked.

"No, she doesn't do well with tight quarters." I said back.

"So how do you store her?" He continued.

"Store her?"

"She's that well trained?"

"No, she's that well brained," I laughed, "She's a smart little something and she's very obedient, albeit on the timid side."

"So she's super smart? Like how smart, if you'd compare her to a child, how smart would she be?"

"It's hard to say, maybe a ten or twelve year old child, maybe a five or six year old child. I haven't really tested her mental prowess." I responded looking up to the sky. It was getting dark and I knew she was going to come swooping in at any minute. Her silver body and swift speed often gave her unparalleled stealth. Most of the time, I wouldn't even bother to search for her.

As predicted, she seemingly popped up out of nowhere coming forth on low hung wings at well over a hundred miles an hour. She dissipated her speed by spreading her wings and tail, flapping vigorously as she came close to us. She landed, having to run to get rid of the rest of the speed. Jon was not prepared to see such a magnificent creature.

"Whoa." He said. I got right on the ground as she ran towards me ready to get a good tickling.

"These giant long wings are social birds. I wish there was more information on them but there simply isn't. I'm forced to think she's the last of her kind." I sighed.

"I'm jealous...I want to do that to my bird but she'd bite the fuck out of me. If I piss her off bad enough, she'll grip me and open me up like a parachute. Who'd have thought a six pound bird can be so damn vicious." Jon joked, showing me the terrible scars on his arm.

"See, Bazahra is five times bigger than your goshawk. She can kill me easily and she knows she can...but I'd never give her reason to." I explained.

"Damn, why would a bird need to kill something so much larger than itself?" He asked.

"Well, the ability to kill something larger than itself is a security measure to damn sure kill appropriately sized prey. I'm also guessing that since she's so social with other raptors, her species would collaborate to hunt prey. I mean the biggest thing she's taken down was a three hundred fifty pound water buck. Considering her hunting style, she probably could kill something twice as large."

"A water buck? How did she manage to do that?" He asked, completely skeptical.

"It's why I decided she's a long wing. She doesn't grapple with prey; she uses her talons to punch it at high speed. And when she went after the water buck, she was streaking. The thing didn't even see her. Hell, I didn't even see her. I just saw the poor antelope drop to the ground, fidgeting, blood leaking from its skull."

"She punches prey? She has such long legs and a goshawk-like build. I would have expected her to wrestle prey until its dead."

"She has before. I don't encourage it at all though. For one, it prolongs the kill and she can cover a lot of ground and it can be hard for me to get to. Secondly it's dangerous. She can get hurt and she's the last of her kind and I'm not really willing to risk that. She's done it only on small prey such as gazelle, hare, baby boar, and small ratites. She particularly likes tackling ratites then kicking them in the head to finish them off."

"So how exactly does she punch? She flies in close pointed toes held near the body or does she do something unique?"

"She..." I said, still tickling the ruffled bird, "She does a high speed kick to the skull to kill instantly. She does the close body punch when she's targeting prey from the side or behind and either wants to play with it while it's still alive or doesn't want to get hurt. I've also seen her dive in and pick prey upwards of a hundred pounds up off the ground to drop it and break its neck. She can be rather creative."

"We have a secretary bird which often runs and kicks the lure rather than fly. We can't get that thing to fly for much of anything. It's just about as tall she is, maybe a little taller but she's much more robust."

"Yeah, I've trained some four foot secretary birds to be snake killers for some Illisian farms on the far eastern border. Secretary birds are another social animal. They love being around each other and they have a nice turn of speed on the ground yet are amazing fliers." I clarified.

"What raptors haven't you trained?" He asked.

"I've read of a land far to the west... There are reports of giant raptors the size of ratites that run down prey. I'd want to train those. There are also reports of huge vultures with wings over twenty feet wide and I love training vultures. I also think that it could be the place where Bazahra is from. The land, I've been told is incredibly inhospitable, not because of the terrain but because the creatures there are unlike anything on this side of the world. I really want to go there." I said.

"Well if you can find a way there find me before you leave because I'd love to go." He smiled.

"Sure."

His demeanor then changed as his eyes locked onto someone approaching from the palace. I turned to view them and it was Roi. I heard a very congested sigh from behind and turned to see Jon storming off. It became clear to me that he and Roi were not friends at all.

"Hey, I've been looking for you. Where'd you run off to?" He asked candidly.

"I've been getting a feel for all the birds today. This is going to be a long night so I'm gonna work out, draw more blue prints and turn in for a few hours." I explained.

He eyed Jon as the boy went to the aviary.

"You should sleep over in my room tonight. Show me some of your work." He suggested.

"No, I like working alone. It lets me concentrate." I refused. He placed his hand on my shoulder.

"I insist," He said, not even making eye contact still looking at Jon, "I won't make a sound. I just want to watch."

"Sure?" I said back, knowing that it was now inevitable. I was going to get tried.

I entered his room with all my stuff in my hand. For some reason, Bazahra was reluctant to come. It didn't make me feel any better considering I could have used her to bail me out in some kind of way. This night was going to be brutal.

All my belongings were tossed onto the table. I looked around the room, it being elegant beyond elegant. The walls were a custardy yellow, lined with intricate white stripes with stencil work in them. The furniture was very Victorian and the floors were a contrast...Not stone but black wood planks, five inches across. The room also had several areas beyond sight. It was simply huge.

"You like it?" He asked.

"It's more than what I'll need on any given day." I chuckled.

"You just need someone to spoil you." He laughed. I looked at him, taken aback by his statement. It was a blatant hint at his true ambitions. His laugh came to an end when he saw my seriousness. I gave a quick laugh to kill the awkwardness.

"Let me give you a tour." He said.

He twirled around the living space with his arms stretched out.

"This is my living range. I personally don't spend time in here and it's just for looks." He said. He then led me to the rear of the room where a short hall was. Inside was his actual bedroom which continued the design. The floors were black ebony wood, forming a step around the bed which was neatly kept. The linens had the same design as the walls. The pillows were a rich silky black, something I've never quite seen before. Again, there was another sitting area with some uncomfortable looking Victorian chairs and a small study.

"As you can tell, this is where I sleep." He smiled, walking backwards past the study into another hall. I followed, surprised to see a huge study. Massive windows let in light from the pastures. On the rear wall were rows and rows of books. There also was a large work bench on the east wall. We continued to walk the study leading to a surprisingly lengthy hall. I could not imagine where this could lead to. This entire suite was an utter maze as is.

It was a tandem bathroom but huge. The designed was the typical cobbled rustic look of the rest of the palace. There were two massive granite tubs, two complex granite showers, two separate vanities and two doorways that lead to yet another segment. It was deeply relieving to know it was simply a giant closet and not some other pointless room.

"The king forces me to share this bathroom with my brother..." Roi said full of resentment. Clearly, he and his brother didn't get along well.

At this point, I was very aggravated.

"OK," I began, "So where am I going to sleep?" He looked lost.

"Anywhere you want really. I don't mind." He smiled. I just stared arms folded, reluctant to believe this boy was serious. It was hard to keep in the eye roll but I did.

"I need to get to work." I sighed.

The walk back to the living range was frustratingly long. I reached the table, sorting through my things. I placed my change of clothes and toiletries to one side and looked at my art supplies. I had several rolls of cypress sheets that I was going to use for these blue prints. There also was gentle graphite and a ruler. I turned, bumping into Roi, dropping all the stuff to the floor. The gentle graphite shattered, frustrating me anymore. I sighed, scratching the back of my head, utterly at my wits end.

"Sorry!" He said, picking up the stuff and handing it back to me, "Where were you headed?"

"I don't know, I guess the study." I said.

A few hours into the night and I was deep into my concepts. I didn't like the work bench so I was on the floor, down in a center split writing notes onto the paper and into my journal. Going back between the paper, my supplies and the journal I switched between a left leading leg split, middle split and right leading leg split. I soon was finished and could really focus on opening my body.

Still in a center split, I rolled up the cypress spreads and placed my journal into my bag. I then used my leg to push it all to the side, going back to the split. My breathing relaxed, my eyes closed, I felt the cool damp air entering my lungs. Finally, the stress left my body.

"Whoa..." I heard Roi say as he came from his bed quarters. My concentration dissipated as annoyance set in. I looked at him with a synthetic smile.

"This is what I do to open up channels and release stress. It clears the mind, just requires the utmost of quietness and concentration." I said hinting at just how bad I wanted to leave me alone.

"Show me!" He demanded, getting onto the floor next to me. He tried spreading his legs into the center position but he could not ark them out.

"It takes a bit of practice to open up your pelvis." I said.

"Why precisely do you do this?" He asked, full of curiosity.

"For one, it makes Rejon much easier to ride. It also makes you flexible for a variety of other things." I said.

"Like what?" He asked, turning to me. Hesitation filled me, not knowing what to say next. Whatever it was, it had to be something to wedge this situation apart.

"For hand to hand combat... my father trained me extensively ever since I could walk. I was fighting before I could speak. Also for recessing hard terrain... the forests of Illisia can prove thick and it can take extreme flexibility to get out." I explained.

"I want to learn more." He said crawling towards me. I swung out of my split and crawled backwards. He pushed my stuff aside and smiled, "Why are you running?" There were no words that could manifest onto my tongue.

Eventually I backed into the wall, trapped. He continued to crawl towards me, creeping his fingers up my thighs. He came in for a kiss, grabbing my waist to pull me forward. The palm of my hand pushed his face away before his lips met mine. I then grabbed the dagger from his belt and kicked him off of me.

The boy stood up, seeing I was standing in front of the window the knife at my throat, staring at him in the utmost of distraught.

"Why fight it, I always get what I want." He said, not noticing the knife at my throat until he stepped forward.

"I am not," I hissed, "Am not going to taint myself, becoming one of your many exploits! How dare you throw yourself on me, thinking I can succumb to petty seduction! I know your game! You're the type to manipulate people into getting what you want from them and that won't work on me, not in the slightest. I'd much rather bleed out on your floor than hand myself over to you!" He just stared on, shocked and angered by my defiance. His fists were clenched tightly, being the first person to turn him down.