The Harpy's Daughter

I could tell she was thinking it over. "Sssssage." She nodded her head. "Thissss will do. And you are Oneddd, my brotherrrr." She nodded again. "Let meee take youuu to himmmmm nowww."

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I could barely breathe, not from the thinness of the air at this elevation, but from the many conflicting emotions that were overwhelming me. I was looking down into a giant nest; a human skeleton and a harpy skeleton with their limbs intertwined laid there. The harpy skeleton bore a gold band on one claw. It was plain these two had loved each other.

"Our fatherrrr held my motherrrr for many dayssss after she became ill. He neverrr left her ssside. I would bring themmm food and waterrr. After sheee passsed, he refusssed to eattt or drinkkk any longerrrr. Ssssoon, he weakened and passsed asss wellll."

I was sad now for my sister. When Dunjed Strongel died, I felt no pain and shed no tears for him. I never knew Tarkus, so I was spared the pain of mourning him. But Sage had watched both of her beloved parents die, with no one to comfort her. Standing to her side, I put one arm around her. "I'm sorry, Sage. You went through a great deal of sadness by yourself."

"He wasss a good fatherrr. The firssst time I saw himmm, I wasss alone in the eyrie while my motherrrr wasss hunting and I wasss very afraid. I cried out and tried to scratch himmm with my talonsss but he did not strike at meee, he jussst covered up ssso I couldn't hurt himmm. Whennn my mother came back she threw her wingsss around himmm and they kissssed. Thennn I began to hop and chirp arouuuund their legsss becausssse I wanted to play whatever game they were playingggg.

Over timmme, he taught me how to ssspeak the humannn's language. Sometimesss we would wressstle until I'd grown too ssstrong, and my mother would ssscold me becaussse she wasss afraid I would hurrrt himmm. But I always knew he loveddd me, and we spent many happy timesss togetherrr."

Now it was my turn to be sad. When I was a child, Dunjed Strongel never played with me. He only wanted to teach me to be a blacksmith, but my hands and arms were too small and weak, and he often chided me that I would never be a real man. If only my mother hadn't ruined things with my father, maybe I would have happy memories of my father as well. Quickly, I changed the subject.

"You mentioned one other man had come up on the mountain. Does he still come?"

"No, heeeeee wassss not like youuu or my fatherrrr. He wassss a hunterrrr. He wore blue clothesss with red stripesss on his legsss, and carried ssssomething that sssspat firrre and killed from afarrrr."

"Blue clothes with red stripes means he was a soldier, one with a gun." This was bad. The government wanted people to believe their lies about the harpies not existing, so they'd sent someone up here to eradicate them. My sister closed her eyes in pain.

"Yessss. He sssought many of usss out. Twelve of my sisterssss perished beforrrrre we sssstopped him. We caught himmmm at nighttt, while he foolishhhly sssslept by his fire. He wassss big, ssso it took twooo of ussss to carry him back to hisss village."

"You let him go?"

"No, weee wanted to sssend a message to the peeeeople to leave ussss alone, sssso we dropped him into the fountainnnn at the centerrrrr of the village frommm high uppp."

The fountain in the city square of my parent's village was a war memorial, a 20-foot tower topped off by a statue wielding a sword pointed skyward. I recalled that 2 years ago, incredibly, a soldier had been found at the top of the tower, impaled on the point of the statue's sword. The fountain's water had been tinged red with his blood for days. The government's explanation was that the soldier was deranged, and his insanity had compelled him to commit suicide by climbing the tower and impaling himself. Now, the truth came out. The hunter had slaughtered innocent harpies, and was made to pay a terrible price for it.

"How many harpies were left after this?"

"There are only sssseventeen of usss. My sistersss and I ssstill capture humansss to mate when the mussst isss upon them, but they capture only shepherdssss or farmerssss in the fieldsss, and ssstay away from the village. We fear they will ssssend more men in blue if we choossssse any villagerssss."

Sensing her sadness, I put my arms around my sister and held her close. "Have you been able to lay any eggs?"

She nuzzled into my neck, and I felt her warmth. As she was my sister, I felt nothing untoward, but rather a strong sense of affection; familial love, if you will.

"I have laid eggssss and have raissssed sssseveral hatchlingsss, but becausssse there are ssso few shepherdsss and farmerssss to mate with, my sisterssss and I have all had to endure many cyclesss of the musssst withouttt mating. It isss agony; feverrr, itchinggg, aching of the loinssss from unfulfilled lussssst. Worssst isss the sadnesss of an empty nessst, without the sssounds of hatchlingssss."

My heart ached for my sister, and for the sixteen remaining harpies. The government had almost made their claims true. If something wasn't done, over the next few years, harpies would become extinct naturally because they weren't reproducing fast enough. If another government assassin were sent, this would only accelerate the trimming of their extinction. My mind was now spinning desperately. Something had to be done to stop the harpy genocide! What could I do? What would my father, Tarkus Whitan, do? Then it hit me. I knew exactly how I could help.

"Sage, if your sisters need a human to mate with, I'll be glad to help. I've taken a sabbatical from my teaching duties to write a scientific book on harpies, so I'll have time to come up the mountain a couple of times a month. That way if any of your sisters can't find a human male, they won't have to suffer though the must unfulfilled. Would that be helpful?"

Sage sat silently for a few moments, looking at me with intensity. Then she responded. "this isss kind of you, brotherrrr. I will fly tomorrow and sharrre yourrr offerrr with my sistersss, then returnnn with answserrr."

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In the end, being leery of humans after the soldier incident, not every harpy accepted the offer, but one did almost immediately. Sage told me she was an older harpy, and it was especially painful for when the must came over her. She was not as strong as she once was, and was fearful that she lacked the strength to carry a human male all the way up the mountain. Sage carried me to her eyrie, dropped me off at the mouth of a cave - larger than the one where our parents remains lay - then quickly flew away.

I was nervous, of course. Thousands of feet above the valley floor in a harpy's lair, if she took a dislike to me, she could easily fling me out into the morning mists. I heard a shuffling in the back of the cave, and she emerged, stretching her wings. She was big, taller than me and with a wingspan twice as wide as I was tall. Her plumage was stunning, blood-red feathers with yellow tips. Her breasts were large and slightly saggy; Sage told me she'd had hatchlings before, but none for the last three years.

She had no name and spoke no English, but my sister assured me that when the fire from must burned in her, no words would be required.

She hopped forward and chirped a bit, as if introducing herself. Then she smiled, her sharp teeth in full display. To be polite, I smiled and responded, "Hello there, I'm Oned. I'm very excited to meet you, you are quite lovely." I placed my hand on her wing, and she cooed pleasantly. My nose detected a faint odor of excitement. I suspected perhaps her must was already active.

During the course of my research, I'd interviewed several men who claimed to have been abducted and seduced by harpies; the scholar in me was now copiously observing everything to see if their versions had been accurate. The harpy stepped in close to me, her eyes glued to mine. Her pupils were wide and dark, and her feathers bristled in excitement. I noticed her chest heaving, as if she were having difficulty breathing. This was exactly as my research subjects had described. If this proceeded as expected, she would lunge at me next, and the beautiful beast did not disappoint.

Wings splayed wide, she quickly pushed me into the eyrie and thrust me into her nest. Covering me with her wings, I was trapped; there was little I could do as she dove forward and brought her lips against mine. Even though I'd expected it, I was nonetheless startled by her quickness and cried out in surprise. My mouth being slightly open gave her the opportunity to thrust her tongue past my lips and delved deep into my mouth. She was salivating strongly, and her saliva filled my mouth to overflowing. This caused me to swallow most of it, so as not to choke. I was semi-successful, but began coughing; as I did so, the harpy suddenly stepped back.

All the subjects I'd interviewed were consistent on this one point: regardless of their state of mind -- abject fear, shock, or wonder -- once they'd swallowed the harpy's saliva, their emotions turned to savage lust.

Legends say that harpy saliva is suited to the cleansing and healing of wounds, but during mating it becomes a potent aphrodisiac. My scholarly mind made one final observation before my brain was taken over by unbridled lust. Suddenly, mating with this divine creature was all I could think about. Nothing -- not hunger, not thirst not even injury -- would keep me from plunging my manhood into her.

I grappled with her, attempting to pin her down, but she laughed! My mother had sworn the harpy who took my father laughed at her, and sure enough, this one proved harpies could indeed express joy this way.

She flipped me over as if I were a mere leaf, held my arms down against the floor of the nest with and knelt over me, positioning her hips so that my hardness was directly aligned with her female anatomy. I could feel her slickness as she slipped her opening against the tip of my manhood; I felt as if I were going to explode; the smell of her excitement penetrated my senses, and I thrust my hips upward. She laughed again, allowing me to just barely enter her. The old girl was toying with me, enjoying my torture!

Leaning down, she once again pressed her mouth to mine and fed me more of her saliva. Like a man dying of thirst, I swallowed all of it, and the fire burning in my loins grew into a raging inferno. My heels managed to gain purchase beneath me, and with superhuman effort I thrust my hips upward, piercing deeply into her belly. Howling with lust and fury, I pumped upwards again and again, hard enough to lift her upwards off the nest floor.

She answered my howls with her own, and we mated at a frenzied pace. She lowered her lips to mine and our tongues intertwined. Delightedly, I explored the points of her teeth with the tip of my tongue as she kept feeding me the mating elixir that was her saliva. Apparently, she was losing control of herself, as she gasped in my mouth with every thrust. Finally, I exploded, releasing my seed into her womb so violently it felt like a bolt of lightning. As I did so, she ground her pelvis against mine, as if trying to drain every last drop of my ejaculate.

When it finally ended, her feathered body collapsed on mine. For a frightening moment, the weight of her forced all the air from my lungs and I was unable to breathe. A jolt of fear ran through me as I wondered if this incendiary mating had been my final act; would my winged lover now finish me off, like a post-coital mantis?

Blessedly, this was not the case. She slid off me, allowing me to draw in a huge gasp of breath, then enveloped me in her wings and cooed softly, relaxing me until I fell deeply asleep. When I woke up, I found myself thinking rationally again, but physically still in an agitated state; I chalked this up to the multiple dosages of harpy saliva I'd ingested. My winged paramour was still asleep, so I gently crept out from under her wings and walked to the edge of the eyrie, relieving my bladder into the abyss.

As the cold air blew across my naked skin, all of my senses seemed somehow heightened. As I turned back towards the nest, I saw she was studying me. In what had to be a harpy version of seduction, she laid on her back and partially spread her wings, revealing her swollen breasts and exposed sex, still wet from my previous deposits. Energized, I felt my loins begin to stir.

It was then that she cooed in an almost lyrical way, and my body responded as if conditioned by the pairing of her saliva with her verbal cue. I pounced on her, pressing my mouth to hers and shoving my tongue between her lips to savor that love potion contained there. Entering her with my rock-hard manhood, I began copulating with her wildly. She enveloped me in the warmth of her wings, and it wasn't long before I gladly released a load of my seed into her for a second time.

Although harpies did not have names, I dubbed this one Agnetta, which in the language of the Old Ones meant 'goddess'. I stayed the next several days with her, our mating sessions only interrupted by exhaustion and sleep, or her leaving to go hunt food for us - fish for me, rabbits for her.

During the rest of this visit in the mountains, I mated with two other harpies whose must had returned, but they were younger and smaller than Agnetta. This may have been why the effects of their saliva on me were not nearly as intense.

When the day came for me to return to the world of academia, before flying me down to the mountain's base I had Sage ferry me to Agnetta's eyrie to bid her farewell. We embraced, my arms around her, and her wings enveloping me. I gently kissed her lips, taking care this time to avoid contact with her powerful saliva. She cooed sadly, and through Sage's translating I promised her I would be back. It was a poignant farewell, but not permanent. Nonetheless, a bond had been formed between us and my heart was heavy, anticipating her absence.

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I climbed the mountain many times after that, bringing gifts of dried fruit and smoked fish and meats to the harpies that I mated with. My scientific notations indicate I fathered 43 hatchlings from my mountain visits, which helped the harpies to begin recovering from near-extinction.

Some of my matings were with harpies who bore multiple eggs, some were with older harpies that produced just a single egg. Most of my matings were one-time occurrences, but there were two other harpies like Agnetta who made use of my services multiple times.

My half-sister was fortunate enough to find a human mate. Ironically a teaching assistant of mine, Carish Staret. Lured by my harpy tales, he had managed to climb up to the same mountainside nook where Sage had discovered me. Her must had risen, and she took him as her mother had initially taken our father.

Like Tarkus Whitan, Carish found himself in love with a harpy. He wrote me that despite the danger, Sage would come down under cover of night to visit him periodically during the school semester, and when school was not in session, she'd carry him up to her eyrie. They'd already had one hatchling and were expecting another soon. Knowing the government threat that still faced the harpy, he swore his secrecy to me, and I swore mine to him.

I used my first-hand knowledge to write several best-selling scientific books based on my observations, complete with illustrations that netted me a proper fortune. (Even tedious old VanHelsing stopped talking about vampires long enough to buy one!) Using the proceeds from the sales of my book, I had a large barn built next to my parent's old home.

However, this was no conventional barn; this barn's hayloft was far taller than usual, with extra gable doors high up on the ends. Whenever anyone asked me why the hayloft was so big, I told them it was my laboratory for study of the giant barn owl. It was, in fact, a safe haven for harpies weak from the effects of the must, needing to rest before abducting a human male. Without this rest, they would be unable to make it back to their eyrie.

It also became home to Agnetta, the harpy I'd bonded with. Like my father before me, (as well as my teaching assistant), I too had fallen in love with a harpy. Every trip up the mountain to perform my mating duties always found me spending time in her nest, regardless of whether the must was upon her or not. By the time my aging elbows and knees made it difficult to ascend any longer, she'd laid five eggs with me. Our hatchlings eventually grew into strong and beautiful red-feathered harpies in their own right.

With the help of Sage's translating, I begged Agnetta to come down from the mountain to live in my barn and build a nest in the hayloft. She lowered her head, cooing and chirping, indicating agreement. Further following my father's example, to symbolize my lifelong commitment to Agnetta I bought a ring for her and placed it on one claw, as well as a ring for myself. When people see my ring and ask about my wife, I merely tell them I am married to my research, which is true. Thanks to Agnetta, I was learning something new about harpies - their physical characteristics, their customs, or their language - every day.

Eventually I stopped teaching, focusing solely on research, spending my days in the hayloft preening and spoiling my Agnetta. She reached an age where the must seldom visited her, but I needed no harpy breeding saliva to compel me to mate with her. Despite my advancing age, my desire for her never diminished.

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My voice resonated throughout the lecture hall, the acoustics perfect: "Harpies were very real but sadly, the evidence I've collected over the past year proves unequivocally that they are completely extinct and no longer among us."

My audience at the National Science Academy included many of my fellow scientists, but also many government representatives, from both the ruling side and the military side. This was to be my final presentation prior to retiring from the world of science, and my lecture included copious amounts of data and exhibits proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that harpies had completely vanished from the face of the earth. They no longer posed a threat to humanity; any recent harpy sightings that were reported were erroneous and without scientific merit.

My audience was delighted when I explained these sighting were not harpies, but in fact a newly-discovered species I dubbed 'beach condors'. Their ability to fly miles offshore or up-river to feed on salmon, turtles and other aquatic life was made possible by their enormous wingspans; combined with their round heads and human-like cries, they could easily be mistaken for harpies by uneducated folk.

To drive my point home, my assistants rolled out giant cage hidden beneath a leather covering; with dramatic flair, I whipped it off to reveal a live male beach condor. Foul-tempered beast that he was, he let loose an ear-piercing scream that echoed through the lecture hall. I swung open his cage with one arm and let him step out, falcon-style, onto my other leather-clad arm. Thanks to his hollow bones, he was amazingly light for his size so his weight did not pose a problem.

Ever the show-off, he fully extended his wings to their 14-foot span; one of my assistants threw him a piece of fish which he greedily consumed. Consummate showman that he was, he let out a second window-rattling scream for good measure.

Looking at the relieved faces, I could see my speech had been effective. I'd proven to their satisfaction that harpies were completely extinct, and that the citizens claiming they'd seen one had, in fact, seen kin of the beast now on my arm.

The government would happily report my findings, their constituents would happily find other things to worry about, and the military would happily spend their time pursuing foes other than mythical winged creatures living in the mountains.