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The Birdmaster shielded his eyes from the strange wind that had sprung up as he entered the clearing. All the griffins were still there, which was good news, but the Choirsinger was not with them. He’d lost him.
Cursing, he forced himself to calm down and think rationally. There were no other paths leading out of the clearing, which was why he’d chosen it in the first place. Thick hedges and thorny bushes surrounded it on three sides, and the lighter undergrowth of the remaining side butted up against the glowing dome of light. Beyond that there were only rocky cliffs and a long drop into Lake Rythimia. The Birdmaster refused to believe the Choirsinger had jumped, which meant he had to have left signs of his passing.
There! He’d almost missed it in the golden glow of the dome. The sunhopper was flying agitated circles above the undergrowth of the southern corner. If he listened closely, the Birdmaster could also make out the faint sounds of someone crying.
He crossed the clearing quickly, stumbling as a sudden gust of wind threatened to knock him off his feet, and called to the sunhopper. The surrounding vegetation was starting to creak and sway alarmingly, and the tiny creature was being buffeted mercilessly by the rising gale. It latched gratefully onto the Birdmaster’s tunic as he approached, and a single glance at the undergrowth it’d been circling was enough to know the reason it had left its previous companion’s shoulder.
The Choirsinger was attacking the dome, sobbing and shrieking in turns as he pounded against the golden barrier. For a barrier it was. The hazy light, which so recently had posed no obstacle to the hawks and Elden, was as solid as stone under his desperate assault.
The Birdmaster reached out to feel the dome and frowned in puzzlement as his hand passed easily into it. Like before, it felt as insubstantial as air.
Seeing this, the Choirsinger let out a despairing wail and started throwing himself bodily against the shimmering obstacle. A ripple of energy passed through the surrounding air as his voice took on an oddly compelling resonance, and the wind abruptly increased in intensity.
Conscious of the lethal drop on the other side of the dome, the Birdmaster grabbed a nearby tree and worked his way over to the distraught figure. The Choirsinger resisted all attempts to restrain him, pulling away and continuing the futile assault until he finally tripped over himself, at which time the Birdmaster skillfully seized his arms and pleaded with him to calm himself. He was ignored.
Wincing, the Birdmaster forcibly immobilized him. It was not an easy task. The flowing folds of his captive’s clothing were both slippery and deceptive, concealing a slight build that was almost absurdly difficult to keep hold of, and the slim form now trapped against the Birdmaster’s chest was surprisingly strong. He could already feel several bruises forming.
The Choirsinger suddenly ceased his struggles, stared up at the sky, and started shouting in his ancient language so loudly the Birdmaster almost lost his grip. Like before, the Birdmaster understood perfectly, but this time it sounded like two other people were shouting along with him in perfect unison.
“WHAT CRUELTY IS THIS?!! TO SHOW ME FREEDOM AND STEAL IT AWAY WITH SUCH HEARTLESS INNOCENCE! I HAVE DONE NOTHING! NOTHING TO MERIT SUCH TORMENT! WHY ARE YOU ALLOWING THIS?!”
The Choirsinger paused, shoulders heaving as the two new voices degenerated into incoherent sobbing. His original voice continued a few seconds later, broken and pleading as it trailed into defeated silence.
“I demand an explanation…!”
The tension left him and he slumped back, allowing the Birdmaster to draw him away from the dome and into the clearing as the unnatural windstorm abruptly died. Within moments the only signs it’d ever existed were a thin carpet of broken twigs and branches and a small huddle of wide-eyed griffins in desperate need of preening.
Mind racing, and more than a little unnerved by the fact that it sounded like three people were crying on his shoulder instead of one, the Birdmaster tried to console the weeping being who now clung to him as if his life depended on it. He awkwardly patted the shaking back and whispered soothing words, as if calming a frightened bird or child.
Acutely aware that the man in his arms was neither of those things, the Birdmaster wracked his brain for everything he could remember about the teachings of the Star Choir. It wasn’t much, and for the first time in his life he berated himself for not paying attention to the elders’ history lessons when he was a youngling. Under the direction of the Choir Master, the Star Choir had supposedly sung the world into being. Its members sang with two voices to the Choir Master’s four, and watched over the races of the world. They adhered strictly to the rule of non-interference, limiting contact with mortal creatures to ceremonial interactions, reminiscence of history, and resolution of the dissonances that regularly arose in the harmonies of the world. The Elden race was made in their image.
The Birdmaster went over the rote-learned sentences again and again, until he was sure that he’d indeed remembered it correctly. The members of the Star Choir sang with two voices and resembled Elden.
There were three voices crying on his shoulder.
His blood suddenly running cold, the Birdmaster tightened his grip involuntarily, and froze. His right hand, buried in the folds of fabric covering the other man’s back, was surrounded by the unmistakable texture of downy feathers.
Fascinated by the discovery, he automatically flattened them down and began slowly exploring them. His fingers ruffled the feathers methodically, skillfully lifting and sorting each one before expertly dropping it back into place. It was a technique his birds and griffins enjoyed immensely, and so the Birdmaster was only mildly surprised when the figure in his arms started to relax. The sobbing lessened, diminishing into silent tremors as the three voices faded away one by one.
The patch of feathers was located between the man’s shoulder blades and seemed to run from just below the base of his neck to the small of his back. And that was all it was. Upon feeling them, the Birdmaster had half expected to find wings, but that was not the case. He withdrew his hand, gently prying himself from the now-limp grasp and carefully lifted the man’s head so he was looking the Birdmaster in the face.
The crystal blue eyes blinked dazedly, not really seeing him, and the Birdmaster patiently waited for them to regain their focus before he interrogated him.
This creature was not a member of the Star Choir.
He was something more.