Chapter 3 | They Wyvern
Morning came, and Araciel showed up before dawn as promised, along with several more angels he quickly introduced. Aside from wearing the light armour common among the Venatores, similar in design to Artemis', each of them was armed with a spear or bow and arrows. Strife also noticed that several were carrying chains at their belts, reminding him of lassos.
An angel by the name of Kallisto handed the Horseman one these, explaining that they were meant to restrain the wyvern once it had been grounded. Despite looking rather delicate, the silver pieces were probably quite durable, and Strife could see that they had been coated with something. Given their prey he could only assume that it protected the metal from the beast's acid.
Then they finally moved out. As it was still dark, so they used dimly glowing lanterns to find their way through the forest, while the rest of the Venatores took to the skies, disappearing beyond the canopy.
To Strife's surprise the angels in his company were all on foot. None of them were riding orthos and yet only made limited use of their wings. Admittedly, the trees would have made flight difficult, but it was still curious to see them run, or dash in this case, as they did flap their wings to propel themselves forward every now and then.
Few words were exchanged as they travelled, until they reached a vast, if foggy clearing.
Araciel lifted his arm, signalling everyone to stop. The angels took position between the trees, some on branches that were sturdy enough to hold the lightly armoured hunters.
The Horseman himself was right next to Araciel, petting Mayhem to make sure she remained quiet. "Kirin. The Creator is smiling on us today," the angel whispered, a smile on his lips.
Strife hadn't seen animals like this before. Their bodies were akin to those of deer, yet covered with a mix of scales and fur. Additionally, they had lizard-like tails, long necks and antlered, vulpine heads. At least thirty of them were grassing on the clearing, a few keeping watch for any potential threat, but they hadn't noticed the angels yet.
"Their meat is the best venison you'll ever find in all of Heaven's realms," the warrior continued to explain. "And I'm certain the wyvern would agree. Hopefully, he's interested in having some breakfast today."
If the wyvern was focused on prey, it would doubtlessly be much easier to ambush. Perhaps it wouldn't even be necessary to shoot it out of the skies.
"Your scouts saw it around these parts yesterday?" Strife asked, surveying the cloudy skies.
Araciel nodded and pointed at a nearby peak. "According to them it was resting at that mountain. Since wyverns are not nocturnal, we doubt it has travelled far since."
So the other hunters were probably close by as well.
For now they waited. The sun was slowly rising, casting warm light upon the ridge and eventually the highest treetops. Even the fog began to lift and waves of clouds moved up along the mountainsides, pieces streaming past peaks into the brightening sky like reverse rivers. Still, the pretty view did little to help with Strife's impatience. He apparently wasn't the only one.
"Anything?" Kallisto asked after a while, keeping her voice low, her bluish glowing eyes scanning the surrounding mountains.
At first no one replied, but a mere minute later someone in the trees spoke up. "Up there, at the mountain straight ahead. Just above the trees."
Strife narrowed his eyes. The angel was right. What at first glance could be easily mistaken for another boulder was a living creature, not of stone, but covered by greyish scales. In the twilight of dawn it was well camouflaged; if it hadn't moved, even Strife would have had trouble spotting it.
He watched as the wyvern slowly shifted, clearly getting ready to leap into the air, careful not to alert the still grazing kirin.
"On my command," the Horseman heard Araciel all but whisper, and the angels around them changed their stances. Strife smiled; finally, things were getting interesting. Mayhem shook her head, clearly just as eager as her rider.
He watched as the wyvern silently spread its wings, the leathery membrane shimmering brass like the crest running from head to shoulder. With a mighty leap and a powerful beat of its wings, the wyvern launched itself into the sky.
For now the kirin were unaware of the danger, their eyes on the surrounding forest. Perhaps they were not used to airborne predators. They wyvern used the remaining clouds to conceal its approach, and then folded its wings.
It dove towards the ground, fast as any falcon, emerging from between the clouds again, the tip of its wings dragging parts of them along. The kirin were still oblivious, even as the giant reptile spread its talons.
Then all hell broke loose.
The wyvern caught a kirin, pinning it to the ground with claws and sheer weight. It's sudden appearance sparked a panic, the rest of the herd scattering in all directions, each kirin desperate to get away from the predator as fast as possible and into the forest.
"Now!"
At Araciel's order the angels leaped into action and Strife with them. With everything going on, the wyvern didn't realize that not everything was running away from it. Weaving their way through the panicking herd, the Venatores began to surround the beast, which now had its jaws around the kirin's neck, effortlessly crushing it with a single bite.
The herd disappeared into the woods and only now did the wyvern notice the angels. It narrowed its orange eyes, fletching fangs, each as long and likely as sharp as a dagger. It stepped over its prey and spread its wings in a threatening display.
It made no attempt to escape however. Perhaps the wyvern perceived them as scavengers, challenging it for the meat. That misconception would cost it dearly.
Some of the angels raised their bows to deliver the first dose of narcotics. The wyvern shook its head, displaying massive grey horns, one of which was already broken. In addition its scaly hide was an impressive tapestry of scars, old and new, evidence of what must have been a long and often violent life. And yet it had survived until now. What a magnificent beast; Strife was more thrilled than ever to help bring it down.
The first volley of arrows was unleashed, some getting deflected by tough scales, yet others found tiny openings in the natural armour, or cut into the less protected wings. Whether they actually delivered some of the drug remained to be seen, but for now all the arrows did was to enrage the wyvern. It roared, raising its head akin to a snake that was ready to strike.
"Scatter!"
Just as Araciel shouted, the wyvern unleashed two streams of acid upon the angels like a spitting cobra . None of the birds were hit, but the acid created wide trails of corroded grass, smoking as if it had been set on fire.
The Venatores circled the beast, firing more arrows whenever they could. It responded with more burning acid and wiping its quill-covered tail around like a morning star. With its attention fully on the group, it didn't notice the rest of the hunting party descending from above, finally appearing out of the clouds around the mountains.
Or so Strife had thought.
Perhaps the wyvern had excellent peripheral vision, maybe the wind had changed direction, but suddenly it stopped snarling and lifted its head to look up.
One of the Venatores noticed this as well, and breaking formation dashed towards the animal, spear ready to strike. A risky move, but it worked.
The wyvern spun around, roaring at the hunter, wings spread. Just as it spat another stream, the angel let himself all but fall, the acid missing the top of his head by mere inches. His feet touched the ground, he crouched down, before quickly beating his wings to propel himself straight back into the air as he jumped up.
In that moment the wyvern turned its entire body, and just as the angel got off the ground, the tail lashed around like whip.
Strife could hear the impact, the tail hitting the angel by the left arm and across the chest, knocking him back to the ground like a puppet. He wasn't moving, one wing stood up in an awkward angle and blood dripped from the sharp quills along the wyvern's tail. Not good.
"Tamiel!" Kallisto shouted behind the Horseman.
"Qadesch, Zaqiel! Get its attention!" Araciel bellowed. "I want Tamiel out of there now!"
If Strife was being honest, he didn't care much for angels, but he had agreed to help these birds and the Venatores had treated him decently enough. Ah, what the hell. Besides, maybe he could get the hunters to pay him more.
Strife turned Mayhem around and made for the fallen angel, the wyvern turning its attention to another pair of hunters. Thanks to their distraction, Strife reached the body unhindered and leaned down without slowing Mayhem. He grabbed the angel by the belt and pulled him up. It was a good thing he was only lightly armoured or this would have been a lot more difficult. Strife threw the body across the saddle in front of him, keeping a hand on the hunter's back so he wouldn't slide off again. The large wings were a bit of a nuisance, but he managed to keep them down and out of his face.
But he hadn't gone unnoticed.
As soon as he looked up, he saw the long tail coming for them. Strife cursed and drew Mercy. He knew he wasn't supposed to piss this thing off too much, but he sure as hell wouldn't let himself get caught by those sharp looking quills at the end. Besides, it already appeared to be pretty angry. One pull of the trigger was enough to tear off the tail's tip, and the wyvern snarled in pain, retracting the injured body part.
Without wasting a second, the Horseman steered Mayhem back towards the forest, away from the fight, just as the Artemis' group began their attack. Strife looked over his shoulder, just as another volley of arrows hit the wyvern. Two angels dove down, one Artemis herself, glaives in hand.
They made for the wyvern's wings, and before the beast could react, the blades cut into the muscles connecting them to the back. It wasn't enough to sever the wings, but it was doubtful the animal would ever fly again. The roar that followed boomed painfully in Strife's ears, despite the distance.
Just as quickly as they had struck, the hunters took to the air again, getting out of reach of both acid and tail. Now they had to subdue it.
Mayhem reached the edge of the forest, where they were met by the Venatores' backup, already waiting for them. First to approach was a female angel, unarmed, but she was carrying various vials and pouches with her, no doubt with anything a healer in the field might require.
"Tamiel! Is he alive?" she asked, as Strife steadied his horse.
"He's unconscious," replied the Horseman and lowered the injured angel into her arms. The quills had cut the breast harness wide open, but despite the still flowing blood it was difficult to tell how deep the lacerations actually were. At least there was none leaking from his mouth, which was a good sign. "The arm and wing look broken too, not sure about his ribs."
"Thank you, Rider. I'll see to his wounds," she assured him and turned around to another of the healers, who had showed up behind her. "Melichar, give me a hand!"
As soon as they'd taken a step back, Strife and Mayhem left to re-join the fray. The wyvern was still fighting, lashing out in all directions, despite its wings now hanging uselessly from its shoulders. It was still using its tail, despite the injury, blood spraying from it with each move.
It was desperate, and Strife felt a twinge of pity for this beast. Reptiles grew their entire life, and given its size this wyvern was truly old. Now that he was able to observe it for a moment, the Horseman noticed that it was limping, even though the hunters hadn't yet targeted the legs. How many other ailments already burdened this creature?
By now there were countless arrows sticking out of its scaly armour, hopefully enough to have delivered a sufficient amount of the sedative, and the angels began throwing ropes. They wrapped themselves around the tail and neck, several angels holding on to each to be a match the wyvern's strength. Only now did a brave few go for the legs, flying low and winding chains around those powerful limbs. The wyvern did its best to kick out, but did so blindly and missed, if only barely.
"Pull!" someone shouted from above.
Half a dozen Venatores pulled as one at the chains, dragging the legs away from underneath the predator, until it fell. Without forelimbs to catch its fall, the wyvern landed flat on its belly and its head hit the ground quite violently a moment later.
The angels still in the air tossed down wide nets to cover the body, which were immediately pinned down with spears by Araciel's group on the ground. With that the wyvern was almost completely immobilized. Almost.
The beast was tossing around its head and had managed to shake off the chain meant to secure the snout, keep it shut. The rope had already been burned away by the acid. A few hunters tried to get close and put another chain in place, but whenever one dared to approach, the wyverns spat acid, keeping everyone at bay.
It looked like it was time to join in.
Mayhem had gotten him close enough and Strife leaped off her back, his horse disappearing into the ground, as if swallowed up by the dark smoke around her hooves. The wyvern took notice and turned to the Horseman. He watched it open its jaws wide.
Just before it could unleash another gush of acid, Strife jumped to the side, leaving two shadowy figures in his place. For now the wyvern didn't realize that they weren't the real threat and attacked his clones, spitting its acid at them as planned.
Swiftly Strife closed the distance, wasting not a second.
As soon as the jaws shut, he wrapped his arms around its snout as best he could and using all his strength, Strife made sure it would stay shut this time. Araciel rushed to his side and pressed down on the neck to prevent the wyvern from potentially throwing the Horseman off.
The beast struggled against Strife's grip, growling threateningly, but he refused to let go. Looking up he met the wyvern's gaze, the eye right beside him dull and grey. Poor thing was apparently half blind and yet it still managed to glare at its assailants with fiery wrath. Strife smiled behind his mask. What had this wyvern been like in its prime. What a hunt that would have been.
"A little help?" Araciel shouted, and most angels not holding on to a rope or chain came flying to help hold their prey down.
As it continued to fight, Strife could soon feel the wyvern weaken in his grip. Minutes seem to pass, but eventually it stopped struggling, as if it had no strength left, and the drugs were doing their part by now.
Strife looked back to its eyes, only to see that the murderous glare had changed. It was as if the wyvern realized that it would not be able to free itself and was frightened. Strife was surprised to feel it trembled, though it was impossible to tell whether it was from exhaustion or fear. Perhaps both.
Trapped and helpless the wyvern looked at Strife, the only one of its assailants it could see. Strife had seen that look before, during the Nephilim crusades, and for but a moment his mind turned to last night's nightmare, which he had been unable to forget. The Horseman breathed a sigh.
Slowly he dared to loosen one of his arms, and to his relief the animal made no attempt to free itself or even bite. It had given up.
Strife placed his hand between the wyvern's eyes, petting it like he would Mayhem's snout. It wasn't long before the trembling stopped, and he could have sworn he heard a low hum from the great beast. He hoped it was a sign of approval.
"Hey, it's gonna be fine." Strife wasn't sure why he said it, but the wyvern look at him and hummed again. The sound was so deep the Horseman could feel his own chest vibrate from it. Then the wyvern closed its eyes. It knew what was going to happen, Strife was certain of it.
By now it was clear to the entire hunting party that the drugs had done their part.
Artemis and another angel landed next to the wyvern. They stepped forth, one to each side of the great beast, until they were just behind the head, Araciel moving back to give them space. Strife let his hand run gently across its snout once more, having relaxed his grip entirely. At this point he was cradling the large head, rather than securing it.
He and Artemis shared a look, and she nodded.
As one, both angels lifted their glaives. As one they brought them down.
Strife felt the giant body flinch, then go lax, as the wyvern released a long and final breath. He held its head, fingers brushing across the scales until the wyvern lay completely still.
Not quite how he had expected this hunt to end.
The journey back to the Enclave differed significantly from the one to the wyvern's valley. It certainly took longer, as the hunters wanted to take with them as much of the beast as they could use and carry. Meat, bones and hide; the angels seemed to know at least one use for everything. One of them was tasked with retrieving the valuable glands, Strife noticing the thick gloves in case some of the potent acid spilled.
Meanwhile, the Horseman himself received quite a bit of attention. Not just because he'd wrestled down the wyvern's head without a chain, but word of him saving a hunter had quickly spread. Never before in his life had he been thanked so many times in a single day, and frankly he was glad that the mask hid his initial puzzlement from everyone.
Well, perhaps not everyone, as Artemis eventually noticed. "You must understand; the Venatores have always been exceptionally close knit. During the war we only had one another, and now it's no different. We're family, closer to each other than to any blood relatives we left behind in the White City."
"So, I take it he's gonna make it?"
She nodded. "Adrasteia took care of his injuries and assured me that he will recover, though as of now he remains unconscious. She and Melichar are currently preparing him for transport." She then gestured to one of the camp fires, around which the Venatores had gathered for the night. "Come, join us. You've hunted with us; it is customary to share a drink."
Not one to reject such an offer, Strife followed her to a fire, where he wasn't exactly greeted with smiles, but the angels didn't seem uncomfortable either. He sat down between Artemis and Kallisto, who gave him a nod, which he returned.
With everyone seated, one of the hunters pulled out a large bottle, filled with a bronze coloured liquid. Strife recognized the angel as the one, who had dealt the final blow alongside Artemis this morning, Baraqel, if he remembered correctly. He filled a number of small, ceramic cups, and even from a distance Strife picked up the strong scent of herbs.
The Horseman removed the mouthpiece of his mask as the angels passed along cups, careful not to spill their contents. Once all had been served, the Venatores raised them once above their heads in a sort of silent salute and drank.
Strife followed their example and downed it in one go. At first he tasted a wild mix of herbs and spices, surprisingly smoky as well, but as soon as it hit his throat, it started to burn. He suppressed a cough, but had to take a deep breath.
"How do you like it?" he heard a clearly amused Artemis ask. "It's admittedly an acquired taste."
"It's certainly one I will remember," Strife confessed, before shaking his head, and the he heard some of the hunters laugh, if somewhat hesitantly.
Looking around the Horseman saw that most hadn't simply chugged it and only now finished their cups. Satisfyingly, most squinted at the taste at badly as he had. Strife guessed they drank it because of tradition, not enjoyment, although some of the faces being made did earn cheerful laughs from their fellow hunters. Baraqel lifted the bottle, seeing if anyone wanted a refill.
There weren't many takers.
The hunting party made it back to the Enclave without incident and was greeted by a fairly large group of angels, civilians by the looks of it. Some seemed to be friends, who had come to welcome the hunters home, however others helped to unload the orthos and led the animals back to the stables.
While the wyvern parts were carried away, likely to be further processed or stored, Melichar assisted the only injured Venator get off his ortho. The angel had woken shortly before their departure this morning, a little confused and in quiet some pain. His arm and chest were bandaged, while his broken wing had been immobilized, and by the looks of it the position was becoming very uncomfortable after an entire day in the saddle.
"Careful," he hissed, when Melichar accidently put too much pressure on his injured limb, while trying to stabilize him. Angel wings were quite big, and the fix position of one was incredibly destabilizing.
As if summoned by the sound of her patient in distress, Adrasteia all but materialized out of thin air by their side. "Let's get him to Cheiron. You're going to need a few more days in proper care, Tamiel."
"Horseman!" Strife turned away upon hearing his name, seeing Artemis approach him. "Once you concluded your business with Cadan, please meet me at the northern gate of the Enclave. We still have a race to finish."
Good; she hadn't forgotten. "Oh, don't worry, I'll be there."
...
The Horseman headed straight for the Maker's workshop, the smoke rising from the forge serving as his beacon. While the Enclave was still under construction, it already had its fair number of streets and alleys, making the layout look a lot messier than the common angelic outpost. Still, Strife found his way without trouble and this time when he arrived he didn't hear the pounding of a hammer on metal, but voices and the heavy steps of the smith.
He left Mayhem by the stairs, trusting her to wait as usual and went up. He could feel the heat of the forge welcome him even before setting foot inside. As expected he found the Maker already tending to another costumer, an angel the Rider hadn't met yet.
He would have remembered.
After all, her most notable feature were her wings, or lack thereof, as they were only bandaged stumps sticking out from her back. Suddenly Strife remembered Artemis mentioning one, who had gotten injured by the wyvern's acid; this had to be her.
"Ah, you're back!" the Maker greeted him, having seen him coming in. "Your blades are finished; I'll get them right away." Leaving his tools on the table, he disappeared into a back-room, leaving Strife alone with the angel.
She was clearly tense, standing there without moving a muscle, not even turning her head to look at him. Strife shrugged and walked closer until he stood beside her to wait for the Maker.
It remained silent for a while, with only the sound of metal cracking and bending from the extreme temperatures in the forge filling the room. He was about to start humming to himself, when she found the courage to speak. "You must be the Rider we've heard about. The one, who joined the hunt." She was clearly uncomfortable, but at least her voice didn't crack.
"Just when I thought I was starting to blend in. What gave it away?" No reply, but he hadn't expected one. "Jokes aside, we just returned; the others are still unpacking though."
There was a moment of hesitation. "Was anyone injured?"
"Only one. They were bringing him to someone called Cheiron, when I left." Of course Strife had no idea who that was, but he was guessing some kind of healer.
The news evidently put her mind at ease, which he took as an affirmation. "That's a relief. I was worried we would lose someone," she confessed, looking at him for the first time. Given what had happened to her, she had every right to be concerned.
Speaking of which. "So, what are you doing here? No offence, but you don't look like you're in shape for combat or construction work."
The angel posture stiffened again for a second, her wing stumps twitching. "I...I won't be for a while, which is exactly why I'm here." She glimpsed to one of the tables, and Strife stepped closer. Oh.
Various prosthetic wings were on display, mere models of the real thing, given that they weren't quite polished and lacked feathers. Had she come for a fitting?
"Our own artisans and smiths are quite skilled, but when you have the opportunity to have a Maker forge you new wings, you'd be a fool not to take it."
"Point taken. Seen a few of the Hellguard fly around with those." Sure, on Eden most had the typical pearly white feathers, but there had been some with a more artificial look about them, their feathers glowing with a distinct bluish hue.
"They tend to be at the frontlines. That's a lot of injured soldiers over the millennia." And a lot of dead, Strife added in his mind.
"Haven't seen many here, though," he said instead.
She shook her head. "We tended to harass our enemies from away, or strike unseen and disappear again. Couldn't afford to stay and fight with our numbers," the angel explained. "Besides, we're hunters after all."
Their conversation ended, as the Maker returned with Strife's blade in hands, looking pleased with himself. "Here they are, good as new."
The Horseman examined them, happy to have them back in his hands. "They look better than when I got them," he said, delighted about the results. There wasn't a single scratch on them, the metal gleaming like it had never seen combat before. "Are these really the same?" Strife added, while he continued to admire the craftsmanship and checked the engravings.
The Maker laughed. "Of course; I only did what we agreed to. Now, my payment." Having already prepared for this part, Strife produced a small bag filled with coin and tossed it at the Maker, who casually caught it with one of his giant paws. "Pleasure doing business with you, Horseman."
Strife put his blades away; it was good to feel their familiar weight again. "Glad I actually got my money's worth for once. See you around, Maker," he said, taking his leave.
"Farewell, Rider," he heard the huntress beside him say.
He gave her a simple nod. "Angel. Oh, and good luck with your wings."
Artemis let a hand run through Zephyr's smooth feathers as she waited, calming her mount, which had figured out that something was going on. He was rather excited, turning his head every which way, pawing the ground restlessly. A few more angels came to the northern gate as time went on, where the vale opened up to fields of grass, most taking a seat on the town's walls to watch the race.
Initially, only a few friends had known, but she wasn't surprised word had spread to at least some of the hunters. Artemis looked up as soon as she heard the distinct sound of hooves upon the pavement, the Horseman arriving at an easy trot. Despite him wearing the mask, she could see that he was in a good mood.
"Okay, let's do this," the Rider greeted her, steadying his armoured horse beside her.
"Confident as ever," Artemis noted, feeling a little excited as well by now. She wasn't sure how this would go, but having been able to observe the Phantom Horse for the last few days it would likely be a close race. Frankly she preferred it that way; it wouldn't be fun otherwise.
"Why wouldn't I be? I see you brought spectators."
"One of our own is racing a Horseman; why would we want miss that?"Araciel piped up, joining them along with Kallisto and Baraqel. He had offered to play referee, just in case there would be any doubts or issues by the end of the race.
The Horseman nodded. "Good. Now we're gonna have witnesses." His eyes wandered to Zephyr and she noticed him tilting his head ever so slightly, before pointing at the ortho. "Hang on, what's with the armour? Don't you think those boosters are a bit unfair?"
Artemis frowned. "They didn't bother you before, but now they're a problem?"
"Couldn't exactly ask you to leave them behind for hunt. Besides, across country you have the advantage of flight regardless, armour or no armour. The first leg up the mountains ended up being so close, because you followed the paths I had to take, when you could have flown straight to the pass. But this race is about raw speed. What we really want to see here, is how Mayhem compares to your ortho, not its armour."
"He's got a point," Araciel noted.
She couldn't help but glare at him. "You're taking his side?"
Quite dramatically, the angel placed a hand on his heart. "I'm but a neutral spectator, and referee, who merely wishes to see a fair race."
"The armour does seem a little unfair," another voice chimed in.
"You too, Kallisto?" Artemis crossed her arms, her golden eyes narrowing; even her oldest friend. "Whatever happened to respecting your commanding officers?"
The other huntress rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, we're off duty, and the Venatores were always loose at best with the chain of command," she justified herself, trying to avoid eye contact.
"And I'm your elder, which in my case should balances things out," Araciel added, clearly much more comfortable in his shoes.
Artemis sighed, her wings sagging and turned to Strife. "You've been here less than a week, and you're already turning them against me," she told him, a jest rather than a real accusation. Still, this was not looking well for her.
"Hey, if you want to concede, just say it." He was evidently amused by this turn of events.
And he'd struck a chord. "Oh no, we're doing this." This would hurt her chances drastically, but the idea of backing out was unacceptable, even if she was very likely to lose now. Better than to look like a coward. Not to mention his smug tone; she'd race him just for that. "Baraqel, set up the turning point, would you? Usual distance."
The shorthaired angel was smirking, probably at seeing pride getting the better of her once more, but was smart enough not to say anything. "I'll await you there."
It took Artemis a few minutes to have every piece removed. If Zephyr was to race without boosters, he should at least fly light. "Alright."
Araciel waited for her to get up and stepped between the two mounts. "Now that everyone is prepared. The rules are simple; ride or fly straight for Baraqel, make a turn around him and straight back here. The winner is the first to pass the gate. It should go without saying that you are not allowed to interfere with your opponent or hinder them in any way."
"I feel like there is a story here," the Horseman noted.
"Let us say in some races contestants would bring weapons. Or maybe just a slice of meat to distract an opponent's orhto," explained Kallisto.
He chuckled. "I'm gonna be honest; that actually sounds fun."
"But is as much 'cheating' as the armour, so not this time," Araciel pointed out.
"Shame. So, are we gonna do this?"
Their referee nodded and lifted his arm. Artemis adjusted her grip on the reins, feeling her heartbeat picking up speed. Even if she couldn't win, she'd give the Horseman as good a fight as Zephyr could give him. "Alright. At my mark. Go!" And his arm went down.
As Zephyr leaped into the air, Artemis pressed herself against his back, her own wings lowered and kept as close as possible, like a shell around her body to reduce drag. Each powerful beat of his wide wings brought them a little higher, the huntress feeling each muscle move now that there was no armour between them, only a light saddle.
But despite his effort, the Rider was not only beneath them, but starting to pull ahead. His scarf was fluttering behind him, which in old races would have been an open invitation to pull at it. But this was to be a fair competition, and she resisted the temptation. Beside, angering a Horseman seemed like a terrible idea, especially after the last few days had gone so well.
The Phantom Horse was undeniably fast, especially now on open field. Despite the dark smoke billowing around her hooves, Artemis could see the legs, moving so swiftly that it looked like it had twice the number.
And frustratingly the mare was extending her lead. But this wasn't over.
They'd soon reach Baraqel, who was hovering in the air just above ground another kilometer away, and Artemis urged her ortho to fly a little higher. Finally, they reached the turning point. The Horseman had so slow down to make the turn, but the huntress had counted on that.
She let Zephyr fold his wings and as they turned, spiralled downwards before diving straight towards the ground. No need for slowing down.
Artemis couldn't keep a smirk off her face, when Zephyr was suddenly in front of the Phantom Horse, if only barely. She could even hear it neigh behind them. Still, they wouldn't be able to keep the lead like this, and it wasn't long before the mare appeared beside them.
The huntress looked over and her eyes met the Rider's. His amber ones were gleaming, but from this distance and with the mask, Artemis had no idea what was going through his mind.
She spurred Zephyr on, urging him to soar again. Their only chance was another dive. But for now she had to watch the Horseman regain his lead. Her otho flew higher and for a moment Artemis lost sight of the Rider. Well, this was their last shot.
Once they were close enough to the walls, she gave Zephyr order to dive. The wind was biting, but as an angel her eyes were suited to these conditions. They were headed straight for the northern gate, and Artemis felt her heart pounding, when she saw that the Phantom Horse had almost reached it.
Zephyr's wings were already completely folded and pressed against his body. This was it.
The ground came closer and closer, any moment now Zephyr would have to spread his wings again to slow their descent.
However, it didn't matter anymore. Artemis watched the Horseman gallop straight through the gates, taking the race.
"Ah ha!" He cheered, as Zephyr touched down just outside the gates, his horse rearing triumphantly. "Told you, Wings!"
The huntress sighed, heart still racing. "You win, no argument there." She'd expected as much; he'd won fair and square, though of course she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Victory would have been so sweet. Hopefully, he wasn't an insufferable winner.
The Rider steered his horse back through the archway to join her. "Don't feel too bad. At least you got second place," he teased.
"I would have been really concerned if I had placed any lower."
The Horseman laughed, running a hand across his steed's mane, just as Araciel and Kallisto joined them.
"Looks like Phantom Horses are just as fast as the stories say," the other huntress noted, daring to step a little closer to the armoured mare, though staying out of arm's reach. "A truly magnificent beast."
"Indeed," Araciel agreed.
Zephyr shook his head and cawed, as if insulted by the lack of attention he was getting, and Artemis gently patted his flank. "There, there; you did well. Don't be jealous." He seemed a little disappointed as well; she would give him an extra-long grooming session latter, make them both feel better.
By this time, Baraqel had made it back as well. He didn't ask who had won; perhaps he'd seen everything from afar, or just figured it out, given that the other Venatores were already leaving. "For a moment I was worried you were going to run me over, Rider," he told the Nephilim, though he didn't actually sound very concerned.
"Not on purpose," the Horseman assured him. "Don't think I can say the same for Mayhem here, though; never a good idea to be in a Phantom Horse's way." As if to affirm her rider's words, the mare huffed and stamped her hoof.
Baraqel wing's twitched, as he eyed the steed cautiously. "I'll keep that in mind."
...
All in all Strife was very happy with how things had turned out. Not that he'd ever doubted Mayhem, but it was satisfying to manage such a decisive victory regardless. Soon after the race the three angels, who had stayed around, bid him goodbye and headed back into town, leaving him alone with Artemis. She picked up an ivory box that had been sitting next to the walls the entire time, which he had frankly failed to notice until now.
"Here, your payment."
Strife took the small container and opened the lid, his eyes widening once he saw its content. "You're given me both glands?" The box contained two large flasks; each was filled with a yellow liquid in which the wyvern's valuable glands were swimming in, preserved for a long journey. They really were paying him double, even though he had forgotten to ask about that.
Seeing his reaction, she smiled. "You saved one of our own. Think of it as a gesture of our gratitude."
Those were rare, but if they were always like this, he could get used to such them. "Wings, you may have erased all my debts."
"Glad I could be of service. I suppose you will be going on another mission for the Council?"
"Nah, just finished one, so I'm gonna head home." As soon as he'd paid off Vulgrim.
Meanwhile, the huntress seemed surprised. "Do you have a lot of free time?"
"Honestly? More than I'd like," the Horseman admitted as he put the box into one of the saddlebags. "They might give me a mission tomorrow or a few decades from now, who knows."
"I see what you mean. What do you do with all that time?"
Strife shrugged, though a little astounded by her straightforward curiosity. "You know, setting up things at home, training and such. Considering it will be like this for...well, eternity, I should probably pick up a hobby. Got any ideas?"
"Not of the top of my head,... but maybe I can help another way." Intrigued he turned around, wondering what the angel had in mind. "Look, when you first arrived, we all were a bit tense, but not only did you help us, you saved Tamiel's life. And I have to admit, I enjoyed our little competition. So, if you are ever terribly bored and don't know what to do with yourself, you are welcome to visit us again, maybe join us on another hunt."
For a moment he stared at her. "Seriously?"
"Yes," Artemis confirmed with conviction. "Unless of course you're not interested."
This got a chuckle out of him. "Gotta admit, you guys keep surprising me. But I appreciate the offer." He actually did. Not that hanging around angels was something he'd always wanted, far from it, but the gesture in itself was something. And if there were going to be more beasts to hunt in the future...well, there were certainly worse ways to kill a little time and maybe make a little on the side. Still, whether the other angels would be just as keen on having him back remained to be seen.
"So, you'll consider it?"
He mounted Mayhem, metal clattering quietly as he got into the saddle. "I'd say there is a good chance."
"Happy to hear it." Suddenly, Artemis smirked. "Who know, maybe I get a chance to have a rematch."
That got his attention. Another competition would certainly be entertaining. "Was losing once not enough?" Strife couldn't help himself but tease.
She only frowned. "Technically, your horse beat my ortho. We never really compared our skills."
"Aw; so you are a sore loser after all," he mocked jocosely. "Well, if there is ever anything you'd like to get humiliated at just say the word."
"You are quite insufferable at times, did you know that?" the huntress asked, taunting right back in nearly the same tone.
"It may have been mentioned once or twice," he admitted with a grin, very much enjoying himself, and saw Artemis roll her eyes, though there was still a smile on her lips. Chuckling he rode a circle around the huntress. "Try not to miss me too much, while I'm gone, Wings."
"Farewell, Rider. Until we met again."