Duerlic

The two avians landed on the clifftop, their huge chest muscles flexing and unflexing as large jointed wings tipped with hands were folded along their backs. They cocked their heads to one side and then the other, nervously, if Duerlic’s understanding of their body language was correct. Beside him, Andar’s fists clenched and his jaw became set. Hopefully he’d be able to bottle up his hatred, this meeting was important after –

“You defiled a sanctuary!” shouted Andar. Duerlic groaned, and sought strength as he made soothing noises. “No, Duerlic! These worm-eaters killed thousands! All of that history lost, all of that culture gone! It was their time to integrate tomorrow!” A finger pointed accusingly with each sentence, switching its target at a whim. One of the avians hopped back at the slur, blue plumage quivering, clawed feet digging small furrows in the dirt.

The other opened its beak – her beak – and spoke in a high, trilling voice. “If you are so sure it was us, then why did you agree to meet?” Each of the words was clipped, and the inflection made little sense, but Duerlic never ceased to be amazed at the avian’s capacity for human language. Humans mostly had great difficulty mimicking the melodic warbling that was avian speech.

“I came because I felt it my duty,” retorted Andar. “Seeing you now, I know it in my heart that you Feathered” – the way he said the honorific sounded so like a curse that they flinched – “are responsible. The next time we meet will be on the field of battle.” He spat, and gestured that he was leaving.

Duerlic found he was unable to reach out a placating hand, and suddenly became aware of the long arrow shaft emerging from his chest. He tried to speak, to tell Andar that it wasn’t the avians, that it was all a ploy, but only grunts came from his throat. He collapsed, hearing shouts as hands, bird-like and human both, grasped at him. Please don’t think it’s them, Andar. Please don’t.

The last word he heard, before the darkness closed in, was ‘war’.