YEAR OF THE FLEDGLING

5. Theron

theron

AND THE FLIGHT OF THE FLEDGLING

FIFTEEN YEARS LATER

Patrol was Theron’s favorite time of the day. It got him out of the stuffy old keep and away from scrubbing pots, sweeping floors, or milking goats for a few extra hours. Plus, it let him explore the woods at will.

He didn’t mind that the dark ones dwelled here. He could handle any monster that came at him. There was simply too much wonder in the forest to dismiss it out of hand just because of a little danger.

The piles of mysteries and possibilities hidden behind every tree intrigued him, and Theron thought he could happily spend his life out here, exploring them all.

Like now, for instance. He was gazing at all the dew that glistened like shimmering crystals in the morning light as it clung to the strands of a spiderweb that hung between two cypresses. As he wondered how something that looked so beautiful and delicate could be such a strong nuisance whenever you walked into it, one of his mentors called to him from his left.

“Psst. Over here, boy,” Orsando murmured. “Take a look at this.”

Curious, Theron loped over without question and paused at his side. Orsando was the kindest, gentlest soul in the troop. Theron could always count on him to be patient and explain things in a way that just made sense.

“Right there,” Orsando whispered as he motioned up toward a bird’s nest tucked in the branches. “The hatchling we found last fortnight has fledged and grown wings large enough for him to fly. If you watch for a moment, I bet you’ll see him finally leave his home.”

Theron’s lips parted in fascination as the small bird toddled to the edge of its straw quarters. “I wonder how he knows what he’s doing?” he whispered, amazed as it flapped its wings and then just…flew.

“It’s instinct,” Orsando murmured, his gaze filled with admiration as he watched the bird flutter uncertainly between a pair of trees before it zipped off into the woods. Then he patted Theron’s shoulder in a fatherly manner. “And…the fledgling’s left the nest. It’s a hatchling no more.” Glancing at Theron, he added, “Miraculous, isn’t it?”

“Truly.” Theron nodded as he squinted to spot the bird again, but it was already long gone.

He wondered what it felt like to fly and feel the wind on his face as he soared over the entire forest. He’d love to see what the village looked like from above. Or—

Movement from his right caused him to duck and roll, avoiding the body that burst through the brush to attack him.

Coming up on one knee, Theron ripped two daggers from his belt and wound his arms back to fling them forward, only to pause when he realized his attacker wasn’t a threat at all.

Just a test.

Sword in hand, the scarred old man who’d failed to tackle him finally managed to stop stumbling forward from the momentum of his charge, and he whirled back to where the boy was now, only to realize two daggers were aimed directly at his throat.

“Drat,” Krazzle muttered, dropping his sword and straightening to his full height. “You’re getting too fast.”

Theron laughed and tucked his daggers away. “Or maybe you’re just getting slower,” he teased.

Krazzle sniffed and muttered, “Clever clog,” before both he and Theron glanced toward Orsando, who was still clutching his heart in fright and panting from where he’d backed himself into a tree.

“I do wish you’d stop doing that,” he was finally able to chastise.

“What?” Krazzle shrugged unapologetically. “The boy needs to learn how to react quickly. Or he’ll turn into another…you.”

Theron nudged Krazzle’s arm. “So did I pass my test? Can I finally graduate to full swords now?”

Krazzle’s face screwed up with displeasure, and he grumbled something under his breath. Theron had no idea what he said, but he could tell the older man had given him a reluctant blessing.

“Yes!”

As the boy whooped victoriously and pounded his arms into the air, Orsando grinned broadly and bowed humbly before him. “And so the hatchling boy becomes a fully-fledged man,” he praised with pride glimmering in his eyes. “It’s time for you to fly now, young Eradicator.”

Krazzle sent him a perplexed scowl. “What in tarnation are you blathering on about now, you rambling old loon?”

Orsando sagely set a hand on Theron’s shoulder. “The boy understands.”

Theron nodded in agreement. “I’m a fledgling,” he announced proudly.

Krazzle rolled his eyes. “In any case.” He turned to Theron as well. “We’ll sharpen Solomon’s old set of blades when we return to the keep and try those on you for size.”

“Yes, sir.” Theron bobbed his head enthusiastically as he swallowed down the knot of excitement that had formed in his throat. “Thank you.”

Chuckling, Orsando patted his back warmly. “Let’s finish these rounds, then, and head home for the day.”

The three agreed and went off in their separate assigned directions to finish scouring the forest for any sign of recent tracks from a dark one.

Being the largest, heaviest, most obnoxiously shaped creature in the woods, the beasts left a strikingly easy footprint to spot. They had three paws shaped together like a clover that branched off from the main heel, then nearly foot-long claws that spiked from the ends of those.

Theron covered his section quickly, spotting only one set of tracks that had too much age with dirt and leaves filling it to be concerned about. He knelt anyway, tracing the edges of the meter-long footprint with his finger to discover that it’d had time to dry and c***k, denoting its maturity as well.

He was just heading back to meet up with the other two when the long drone of a distant horn echoed from the direction of the keep.

Sucking in a worried breath, Theron spurred his legs into gear and burst into the clearing a moment later where he was supposed to meet Orsando and Krazzle. They appeared shortly thereafter, both panting and worried.

“The summoning call,” Theron told them, unleashing his daggers to show he was ready for danger.

This specific signal was meant to gather every Eradicator back to the keep. It usually came when there was an emergency as if a dark one had been spotted from the tower.

“Head on a swivel,” Krazzle instructed, yanking his swords from their sheaths.

“Danger could come from any direction,” Orsando added as he pulled his bow from the sling on his back and dragged an arrow from his quiver. “Keep your eyes focused.”

Theron charged forward, his stronger, younger legs causing him to soon leave the other two behind, but Krazzle yelled at him sharply. “Stay with us, boy.”

“We’ll be stronger as three than one, so keep pace,” Orsando added.

Gritting his teeth, Theron reluctantly slowed his gait to make sure he didn’t forge too far ahead, and he ignored the pulsating urge to hurry as fast as he could.

By the time they reached the keep, his heart was hammering with worried anxiety, but as soon as they broke through the bailey’s side door and into the courtyard, they were able to spot their home and all the outbuildings sitting there quietly with no one else rushing about or preparing for battle.

Theron blinked in confusion. “What…?”

“I don’t know,” Orsando answered the unfinished question. “Hurry. Let’s find out.”

Theron followed him and Krazzle to the watchtower.

“What’s wrong?” Krazzle immediately demanded once they burst inside.

Jarrott stood alone in the front room, awaiting them, hands behind his back, and his head bowed in thought. When he glanced up, Theron immediately saw the sadness and regret in his eyes.

“Faraday,” he said simply.

Krazzle cursed loudly and surged forward, brushing past the Chief Eradicator so he could hurry into the back room. Orsando stepped toward Jarrott and set his hand on the chief’s shoulder.

Theron just stood there, wanting to deny it. Finally, he convinced his feet to move, and he followed Krazzle into the back as well.

Once he reached the hearth room, where the oldest Eradicator had set up his cot in the corner some years back, he jerked to a halt as he spotted Krazzle standing over the bed, hands clenched at his side in helpless frustration.

“No,” Theron choked out the word.

But not Faraday too.

Staggering forward, he reached Krazzle’s side and then fell to his knees in front of the old man, where flowers had already been placed over his eyes and his hands had been folded together across his middle in peace.

Theron sniffed, and tears filled his eyes.

He could remember when there had been eight of them. But now, with Faraday gone, they were down to four.

Only Jarrott, Orsando, Krazzle, and Theron remained.

Theron shook his head, hating this.

It felt as if his family was falling apart around him.

Preygar had been the first to be slain when Theron was a mere six or seven years past his birth. They’d always called him Preygar the Clumsy because he’d lost an arm to the dark ones when he was young.

When they’d carried his body home after his last fateful patrol, clawed to an unrecognizable pulp, Theron had gaped, unable to look away. He’d never seen death before that, and he’d suffered through many nightmares for a handful of moon cycles afterward.

But then, a few years later, he’d finally taken up his place in the rounds, and gone on his first patrol, where he’d been the one to cause death.

Solomon had died during that trip. He’d always bragged about being the strongest and the fastest, but he hadn’t been able to outrun the dark one that day. He’d been careless and lost his head…literally. The only reason Theron had been able to kill the murdering monster was because it had been distracted by feasting on Solomon’s remains.

Namuel, who had loved to cook, and used to make every meal the Eradicators ate, had succumbed to the elements three years past when he’d been put in the stocks for breaking a village rule.

But Faraday…

Faraday had no longer gone on patrol or down to the village. He’d stopped about the time that Theron had picked up a shift. The old man didn’t stray far from his bed these days. So honestly, they’d all expected him to go soon.

But now that soon had arrived, it still felt wrong to see him lying there, a shriveled shell with no life to fill it.

Theron reached out slowly and touched Faraday’s cold, lifeless hand, sniffing through more tears.

“For pity’s sake, dry your eyes,” Krazzle snapped. “It’s not seemly for an Eradicator to weep so.”

“Oh, let him cry,” Orsando countered softly as he came to stand next to Theron. His large, warm hand gripped Theron’s shoulder compassionately. “He’s only a fledgling. He’s allowed to mourn.”

“It shows his humanity,” Jarrott added, joining them as he stopped on the other side of Krazzle. “It’s good that one of us is still human.”

Theron wiped his face, anyway, trying to staunch the tears, and the three older men stood around him quietly until he finally had himself under control.

Jarrott cleared his throat discreetly. “We better prepare his burial service before we lose daylight; the general store didn’t provide us with the lantern oil we requested on our last trip to the village for supplies. So… Orsando? Did you spot any signs of a dark one in activity on patrol?”

“None at all, sir,” Orsando replied.

“Good.” The chief nodded. “Then, Krazzle…Theron. Best get to the cemetery and dig a grave. We’ll bury him first thing tomorrow morn.”

Theron swallowed a groan as he obediently nodded. He already knew Krazzle would force him to do all the digging by himself. But for Faraday, he’d do it anyway.

“Yes, sir,” he managed dutifully as a good and loyal Eradicator should. He’d be honored to make a final resting place for his old friend.