"Fuck... me...!"
He ground the words out so thick through teeth clenched so tight that they were barely recognizable as Common. Sweat sprang across the Etzori's brow within trills of the magic being cast. It wasn't tied to blood or muscle, yet he'd leaned how much of a strain was put on them when his Spark was fully roused to life. More accurately, when it was deployed, and its target fought back.
He felt every ounce of pressure. Though they were dozens of yards from him, every heave of their wings, every stifled flap and swipe of their heads felt like it was smashing against his body. Fates, in a way, that's exactly what it was doing. His Spark was tied to his life force, his soul (heh, and that thought alone made him mentally chuckle), but the body was still the vessel for them both. Whenever efforts against his magic made, it was his muscles and skin and bones and sinews that suffered. Like when one of the Rocs managed to flap one wing free-
-and Kasoria grunted, going down to one knee, screwing shut his eyes and forcing more ether into the spell. Clenching his hands so tight the knuckles whitened-
-until the Roc screeched again as fresh chains sprouted from the very air, Shackle-bands of chain-like ether pinning both wings down... and the rest in the party were not idle, either.
Nets with weights at their tips were flung through the air. Ropes with lassos on the end expertly deployed. Catching the vast creatures around the wings, over their heads, even at their feet, before net after net fell on them. Kasoria grunted again, tasting bile in the back of his throat. Five hundred pounds, at a minimum. That was how big Storm Rocs grew, according to the Avriel. Fates, but he could feel every pound of that right now, seemingly in each hand. He could feel their terror and confusion as snares magical and physical weighed them down, humans hollering and roaring as they rushed forth to pin them down.
"Just a little longer, Karim!" He heard Valdayr's voice but didn't dare open his eyes. All his thoughts, all his being needed to be focused on maintaining this cast. "They're nearly-"
One of the Roc's had a different idea. With a massive jerk of its wings it seemed to slice through the ropes and nets and the magical bands pinning it down. Maybe the mage was focusing more on the other one; maybe the humans had done much the same with their crude, catching tools. Whatever the reason, Kasoria yelped as he felt his magic ripped apart, and as his eyes opened-
-he saw the Roc start to take off into the sky, leaving its comrade screeching and trapped on the ground. Every flap was like a hurricane gust, sending it further, further away, to freedom-
"Forgive me, cousin."
TWANG
Kasoria heard the Avriel speak. He'd never thought his kind felt any real kinship to the Rocs, anymore than his did with apes... but those same words had passed the Stalwart's lips every time he'd had to use those arrows. He could smell the Lightning Grasp over the wafting air around him. Knew what that poison could do, crafted from so beautiful a flower, now smeared onto every arrow in the Knight's quiver. The blunted tip flew through the air and caught the Roc under the wing. Not a killing shot. No organs or arteries or even wings targeted. At full speed and proper height, it would have been a nigh-impossible shot. Which was why the Knight had waited, bow half-drawn and arrow notched, waiting and hoping... only to be let down.
By you. He'll probably mention that. Wanker.
"Karim?!" The Avriel bellowed over the screeching Roc. "Don't let him-"
"I won't, damn ye!"
Fates, like he needed to be told that again.
He let the other hunters swarm over the Storm Roc already downed, hammering the edges of nets and tightening the ropes lashing the creature. It had nowhere to go, and corporeal bonds were stronger than the ether he was exerting over it. So with a twist of his wrist, Kasoria ceased his efforts binding that creature, and devoted all his energies to the one in the air-
-but not for long, not with Lightning Grasp rushing through its veins, numbing muscles, killing coordination, sending it spiraling back down to earth-
Kasoria roared and threw out his hands again. As if his small form could reach out and catch the bird without any other effort-
Yet that was what it seemed to do. Valdayr watched with mingled awe and fear as the air around the falling Roc seemed to... ripple. As if it were water instead of air and emptiness. Ether worked through it, crafting it and changing it. Thickening it so that it was a padding for the Roc to land on. Even slowing the fall seemed to strain the gruff little man; sweat was dripping from him now, as he guided the Storm Roc down to the ground, depositing it as gently as he could manage... and even then, it was still not happy. After ensuring the first was subdued, a portion of hunters scurried over to the second and threw a net over it, tightening their grip and holding it down.
The Stalwart nodded to the two men flanking him: the men he would really need in this moment. They nodded back, took off their helmets, and moved towards their old friends.
Enough.
Kasoria cut his Spark off from the world with that single, whispered word through his own mind. At once, the strain stopped, but the pain remained. He was not exerting himself, but like an athlete who still suffers after the grueling race is over, he ached and throbbed over his whole body. He stayed on his knees, panting into his chest until someone pressed a water skin into his hand. Then he gurgled it down until they took it away from him again and he was coughing his guts up again.
"You lost control."
Kasoria laughed out a short, sharp bark. "Aye, well, youse try keepin' dis shite goin' dis long. An' less my eyes fuckin' deceive me, they're both fine."
Valdayr's eyes narrowed and his wings shivered behind him. Kasoria shoved himself upright, knowing the signs of a man on the edge of losing his temper, be it human or birdie-boy. He even managed a crooked smile as he jutted his chin towards the second, wounded Roc.
"Yer man's sure he'll be okay wi' him?"
The Stalwart of Storm's Edge did not like the Etzori, this... 'Karim'. Probably not his real name, for sellswords did not often traffic in truth. They changed names as often as shirts and socks, running from one disgrace or another. But he was skilled in the Abrogative arts, more so than any other within ten days ride of Storm's Edge. They needed him, and the little man knew it. But still... but still... the words kept repeating in his head, and he knew he was not the only one to think them.
Were it bandits or invaders we were facing, instead of beasts who could not bribe or persuade, I would kill this one myself, for he would surely betray us.
"It is not so easy a thing," Valdayr said eventually, watching Sir Tybol approach the Roc. Not with fear in his step, or even caution. Just... understanding. As one would for a maligned friend, not a scared animal. "They have been wild for trials, now. Living without riders, without walls, without restraint. They have been raised their whole lives as... not pets, but beasts of war. Bonded to a rider, a human. Trained to obey them. Yet their nature, their instincts... they need only the briefest window to shatter arcs of loyalty."
There was nothing but thoughtful silence from the Etzori. Not a smirk, not a laugh, not a quip. He turned away as a new sound greeted them. Something almost like a coo, if through lungs the size of Kasoria's entire body, through a beak that could rend chain-mail like paper. The first Roc had its rider again. The Knight was on its back and petting its neck. After a few tentative moments, the man rested his head against its golden-brown feathers... and the Roc actually leaned over and nuzzled his hair.
Now the Etzori chuckled. A low and brief thing, for it was with honest mirth and not mockery. Valdayr was scarce sure he heard it, it was gone so quickly. Then they turned back their eyes to the second Roc. Sir Tybol was bidding the hunters away. He grasped the arrow with one hand, steadying the other on the neck of the Rock and yanked-
-the great eagle screamed and shuddered, but Sir Tybol did not quail. He kept patting the feathers of that terrified creature, his old friend, his mount and comrade through many a battle. He tossed the arrow away and turned to Valdayr.
"Leave me with a couple of men, until the Grasp has worn off. Then I shall fly return home, and the men shall follow."
"Volunteers?"
There was a rush, as always. These were not men driven by gold nor greed; they protected their homes and families, and the honor of Rharne itself. So it was with some surprise that the little Etzori stepped forward, and would not be moved by the calls of others.
"Yeh'd need me, if the thing got loose again. Keep 'im grounded."
Ser Tybol scowled at the Etzori, petting Grackle's neck protectively. "He's not some wild beast, mercenary. He wouldn't try and bolt."
"Aye, course not. S'why we're out here inna first place-"
"Enough, the both of you." Valdayr said eventually, stepping between Knight and sellsword. "Your skills are no longer needed here, Karim. Ser Tybol will have a squire and a tracker, should he need it. I would rather you accompany the rest of his back to the keep, so your magic can be best applied in its defense."
Kasoria wanted to mention his other abilities would be just as handy, but all future conversation was dashed away by a great gust of wind that nearly knocked him over. Ser Crewe had got his mount into the air again, laugh of victory clear over the beating of wings. Unlike Grackles, it had no poison in its blood, and once the nets and ropes were loose it rose clear into the sky without trouble. All below watched them go, including Grackles. The Storm Roc made a mournful sound, watching its fellow fly away without him.
"It's okay," Tybol whispered, petting his neck gently. "You'll see him soon."
Valdayr turned back to Kasoria, seeming to see the man with fresh eyes... if only for a moment or two. He nodded curtly, as if in dismissal.
"Back to the horses, Karim. If we make haste, we can be back at the keep by nightfall."
Kasoria nodded to himself, trembling hand vanishing under his cloak for a moment. When it reappeared, it was no longer shaking, and the plug of tobacco went easily into his mouth.
"As yeh will, sir."
