Fowlhunter [GL]

When Lochlan arrived back, the Beast’s Den had changed.

It was somewhere in the late afternoon. He had chosen this time to return at because he knew there would be the least traffic. Too early in the morning, and the dayscouts and pinchers would be heading out. Too close to the night, and the Beasts—which was most of them—would be out for a Lunaki refuel, and if it was a battle night the warriors would also be on their way out.

He had swum to the den via underground waterways from Kanch, turned into a Loch Ness. But Lochlan never liked his Beast form. Before being a Beast, he used to be a swamp eel, which—unlike those huge moray eels out at sea—was a diminutive species that lived commonly among rice paddies, which were dime a dozen in southeastern Loukoumades.

Swamp eels were often farmed by humans and cooked together with the harvested rice. Being slippery and small had always been to his advantage. Meanwhile, the moon had made him one of the most gigantic beings in mythology. A Loch Ness.

Lochlan hated it. Being so seen—so visible—made his nerves run on overdrive. Attempting to manipulate his clumsy human body on land often drew even more attention. That was why he had trained his Lunaki misting so diligently… to hide his traces as much as he could. Bubbling, he sank himself further below the depths, wrapping himself in magic, anxious eyes on the human townspeople far up above.

After emerging from the river, he wrung the water from his mousy teal hair and dried himself with his cloak, remembering Aunt Liz’s reprimand from the last time.

Though now, of course, she was gone. He’d never hear her nagging again.

Scrubbing his hair a little more forcefully, he slipped his cloak back on, and treaded on through the forest.

The Banyan Den loomed in the distance. Thankfully, it turned out they hadn’t moved locations in the time Lochlan was gone. But he hesitated.

It was by pure gut instinct that Lochlan decided to turn away. He didn’t want to be questioned about where he had been all this time. Besides… something felt off about the place.

There were a few different, secret hidden entrances to the Beasts’ den, other than through the front door. Through these he could slip inside and avoid being noticed.

He retraced his steps to one of these entrances. A backdoor to the Den.

Crawling down the tunnelspace, he reached a second iron door.

These doors were a layer of additional security in case the secret entrances were uncovered by unwelcome visitors. Normally, they could be unlocked using Lunaki, which only a Beast could harness. However, this door in particular was not designed so. It was locked with a conventional key lock. Lochlan could only hope that his lockpicking skills were up to the task. As he reached the looming iron door, he started fishing around in his pockets for his picks.

And then stopped.

The door had been left ajar.

Lochlan frowned, staring at the door. The ominous feeling he’d gotten from earlier intensified.

But well, now he had no choice but to investigate further.

So, bracing himself, he crept his way inside Jemi Garen’s room. He closed the door behind him.

Most Beasts didn’t have a room to themselves. Lochlan, himself, slept in a bunk with fifteen others, where every night he valiantly to ignore the grizzly bear snoring below him. Meanwhile, Jemi had this attic to herself—it was only right that she did, being the Princess—but Jemi didn’t spend much time in this room. Some Beasts slept at night, while others slept in the day, depending on when their duties required them. The Cockatrice was out on battle nights. On other nights, she went elsewhere, though no one knew where. In the day, she could rarely be found in the room either. As a result, the room always had a barebones appearance, never truly looking lived in.

Which was why… the sight that greeted Lochlan was so perplexing.

Lochlan wasn’t close enough with Jemi to have had the opportunity to scrutinise her room much, but he did still remember the last time he was here two months ago.

The room that Lochlan had dropped into was definitely different. His boots dropped onto a felted carpet, which had been laid over the floorboards. A large wooden tub was in the corner, a waterproof tarp underneath it, much larger than the washbasin that Jemi used for dishes and clothes; this one was big enough to fit a person, like a bath. Bags and boxes had always been piled in the corners, but now there seemed to be much more of them, stacked up along the walls. And the walls themselves had been reworked. Several dowels stuck out of the walls, like coathooks or… shelf supports perhaps, only they held neither coats nor shelves.

Lochlan had only intended to use Jemi’s room as a way into the den without rousing suspicion about where he’d been the last month. But after being greeted this sight, he couldn’t help but snoop around further. Carefully, he crept towards the bed. The bed was made, linen sheets, blanket rolled and folded. Also weird; the last time he was here, he distinctly remembered the bed had been left unmade.

He marched towards the cupboard next. Pushing past the awkwardness of rummaging through a woman’s things, he swung open the doors.

Jemi’s usual apparel consisted of plain tunics in varying shades, mostly of camouflage green, black and brown, but there were pops of red and purple. A few hunting cloaks, multipocketed like Lochlan’s. Her style was practical but decidedly girlish, replete with bodices, skirts and stockings. Some pieces were expensive-looking and most assuredly nicked from a clan noble. All this was well and normal… except that for the sets of clothing hanging on the rightmost of the cupboard. The style was completely different. It was also tunics, but with more open collars and lighter fabrics, and primarily in whites and blues. There were trousers. All seemed a few sizes larger.

Lochlan pulled out one of the tunics. It was low-cut in the back… like those in clothes meant for wings. Next, his eyes found a laundry hamper in the bottom of the cupboard. Rumpled sets of the new-styled clothes lay inside. And clinging to the clothes were… he reached his fingers in and pinched something off the clothes, bringing it up into the light.

A yellow feather.

Lochlan’s eyes widened.

Just then, he heard footsteps approaching.

Then, the door to the room creaked open.

Lochlan barely had the time to shove the hamper back in, shut the cupboard doors, and throw up a wall of Lunaki misting. He squashed himself in the sliver of space behind the cupboard, his heart pounding in his ears.

Someone walked in. Skrap skrap skrrrap… they were scratchy footsteps. He knew instantly that it was not Jemi who had entered the room; Jemi walked quietly, too quiet for Lochlan’s hearing to pick up on, while these steps were loud and draggy.

Thickening his mist further, Lochlan risked a peek. It was a man, with straight, yellow hair tied low in a thin ponytail. He was wearing a light-blue, long-sleeved tunic and white trousers, and a black cloak. He could’ve passed for human, were it not for his hands that ended in short black claws, and his bare feet, which were lion’s paws. And were it not for the pair of vibrant yellow wings, stretching out from the back of the tunic.

Lochlan looked down at the feather in his hand. The same shade.

Lochlan knew this man. Of course he did. In the last few years, this Beast had made quite the name for himself in the den. Neil, once an abandoned pet parrot, now a griffon. Perhaps due to his species’ inherent intelligence, combined with being raised in a rigorous human household, he possessed a sharp wit. He wasn’t charming like Jemi was, but he was bold and persuasive. He had opinions and wasn’t afraid to speak them.

Neil turned towards the cupboard, and Lochlan was forced to hide again. The cupboard rattled, sounds of rustling cloth and creaking drawers as the griffon retrieved things. Then, there was a lengthy pause.

Skrap skrap skrap… The griffon scraped his way past the cupboard. If he looked to his right, he would see Lochlan. The boy’s breath was shallow in his throat, but still he dared watching the griffon from the corner of his eye.

Neil poked at the iron door with a claw. When he noticed it was closed, his eyes narrowed. As if he had not expected this.

“......” Neil stared at it, nostrils flaring. With a sweep of his cloak, he turned back into the room, dithering around some more before leaving, tromping down the stairs.

Making sure the coast was clear, Lochlan slipped after him, pottering down the stairs.

The main floor of the Beasts’ den. It was dark, the sunlight outside blocked out by the new black drapes. It was crowded, far more crowded than Lochlan had been expecting. Beasts trotted back and forth busily, having conversations, moving boxes and reading over charts—when most Beasts should’ve been napping or out at this time. Trying not to look out-of-place, the boy excused his way between a naga and squealing adolescent harpy, muttering unheard apologies as he tried to get a read of the floor’s new layout.

The dinner tables had been joined in the middle of the room, covered by a bright red tablecloth. There was a large map of the undercloud rolled out over it. Several pins and flags were stuck across its parchment.

Lochlan recognised this for what it was: war plans. But, looking at these plans, something seemed amiss. It wasn’t quite the same war that the Beasts had been fighting for the last thousand years.

“Something up?”

A familiar voice asked. Lochlan looked up to see Neil staring back at him from the opposite side of the map—and couldn’t help but jump.

“No need to look so scared,” the yellow-haired man laughed: a beakish laugh. “You look lost, soldier. Isn’t there anything you’ve been assigned to?”

Soldier? Lochlan was unused to being addressed as such. Yes, the Beasts were technically all Queen Medusa’s footsoldiers, but within the den they never acted like a military. That was more of an angel thing.

“Um, I was on my way to feeding the prisoners.” It was his go-to thing when he didn’t have anything to do; hanging around the basement where they kept hostages and other prisoners of war was a good way to avoid people, and their questions.

Neil raised his brow. “You’ve been gone a while, haven’t you?”

“...What do you mean?”

“We don’t feed the prisoners anymore,” said the griffon.

Lochlan’s jaw dropped. “Ah… huh?”

Neil tilted his head. “It’s always been a waste of our resources. Grain that could have been used to feed the Beasts. Now that the Cockatrice isn’t around anymore, she can’t dictate otherwise.” He narrowed his eyes at Lochlan. “Wait a minute… you’re that Loch Ness who was with the Cockatrice, weren’t you? Some of the scouts reported it back to me.”

Panic swelled in Lochlan’s eyes. “I, uh…” he mumbled helplessly.

Seeing Lochlan fumble, perhaps out of pity, Neil’s expression softened. He put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You didn’t know, did you? That’s why you’re back here. Not like the other two—that pixiu and makara who defended the traitor. You came back. It’s okay. I’ll explain everything.”

Lochlan shook his head, looking over the plans marked out on the table, thinking about everything he had seen so far. “...I understand what’s going on. You’ve taken over from Jemi. You’re going to siege the moon. It’s a coup.”

“So you’re not as clueless as you look,” Neil smiled dangerously. Yellow wings flexed. “That’s right. When has Queen Medusa or the Cockatrice ever truly cared for the Beasts, anyway? All they care is about using the Beasts to get what they want. Queen Medusa, the fallen angel daughter that wants to revenge against her father. Jemi Garen, her loyal dog. Both are completely out of touch with what we want. What the Beasts want. Our freedom.”

“...There have been many attempted coups in the past thousand years,” Lochlan said carefully. “What makes you think this one will succeed? She’s Queen Medusa. She may not act much, but she’s still a goddess. If she finds out, what’s stopping her from slaughtering us and rebuilding herself a new army?”

“We’ll succeed,” Neil said, “because we have the Kraken.”

“The Kraken?...” Lochlan paused. “But only Jemi can control the Kraken.”

“Exactly,” Neil responded. “So all we have to do is hunt Jemi Garen down, and make her control the Kraken for us.” He spread his clawed hands over the map, tapping at several violet-coloured pins. “My scouts have been tracking her, but she’s sharp. We traced her to a town in Archizoun, but she wasn’t in the apartment she went into when we checked at night. We followed her out to the roof, but she got up and started running when we got close.” He tsk’ed in irritation. “We won’t be able to stand up to the Cockatrice in a one-on-one fight, let alone when she has that Angel Commander by her side now. But a coordinated ambush, and with some threatening of the ones closest to her… we could make her do anything.” His gaze turned dreamy. “I know it.”

“How could you?” Lochlan blurted. “After everything she’s done for you? She was the one who rescued you from that household you lived in!”

Neil leaned on the table, sighing. “See, this is the problem with so many of you. Because someone does something nice for you once, you must do anything they say because of that? Yes, I owe Jemi. Does that make her an adequate leader? I think not.”

“And you think you’re a better leader?”

“Yes,” Neil answered without missing a beat. “I used to look up to the Cockatrice, you know. I wanted to become someone like her. Back in the day, she was so fearsome… so cold. She was at her best before the sunprisons. A child by human standards, but she killed anyone that got in our way, without any hesitation. But the prisons must’ve broken something in her. The years have dulled her blade. She’s gotten soft. Old. Weak.” He hissed. “As humans are bound to be. Magic transforms what you can do, but never who you are. And now, she’s become a traitor, too.”

“As if what you’re committing isn’t treason?” Lochlan said, gesturing at the den around them. “This is happening too fast. You’ve clearly planned this. How many of you…” he shivered as he glanced at the Beasts trotting all around him, “...have been in on this? And for how long?”

“So what? She was the one who made the first move, not me,” Neil sniffed. “She made the job much easier, honestly. Didn’t even have to kill her in her sleep. Oh, no—she got rid of the last of her supporters with her own hands, and pushed the rest off the fence. She did this to herself,” he guffawed, “and it’s better than anything we could’ve come up with. Hahahahaha, hahahahahahahh!”

Through the laughter, Lochlan was silent. Neil’s eyes grew icy as he looked down at the boy.

“Now, it’s your turn to choose,” the griffon said. “Do you want to be on the winning side of history? Because, I promise you…” At his snapped command, two lumbering Beasts approached on either side of him, muscles flexing, Lunaki humming. “I’m not nearly as kind as the Princess.”