High in the sky or down in the dark part 2

Dawn came sooner than Ishoud had anticipated, and before he had time to collect his thoughts he was carried out of his cell and into the fiery sunlight that had just climbed over the eastern side of the Scar. The men carrying him had feathers weaved into their clothing and the long braids in their hair, marking them as initiated brothers of the tribe. None of them spoke to him, or even acknowledged that their burden was something more than a sack of potatoes. They had already pasted the test that now awaited him, and so were as far above him as the soaring eagles were above the crawling dung beetles, and they paid him about as much attention, or less as the birds did the insects.

As they emerged onto the main plateau, the meetingplace for the tribe, surrounded by caveopenings that housed some 40 families, all initiated or younglings-in-training. Today they were all gathered in the early sunlight, their sharp eyes fixed upon him and his escort. Ishoud felt light, but it was not at all like it had been in the cavern. It was a dizzying lightness that made his limbs tingle and spark. At the edge of the plateau furthest away from the sheltering caves there was a natural raised formation of red stone, just before the stone dropped away into the deep abyss, the cut that slithered through the huge plains and divided them in half as far as the eye could see. On that platform the clans strongest warriors, the most talented shifters awaited. His cousin Ishintar stood closest to him, with the sunlight adding a reddish hue to his otherwise sand-colored mane of hair. He had a reassuring smile on his face, and beckoned the warriors that carried him between them over. As Ishoud was pushed onto the platform he cousin turned towards the gathered tribe. “Bright eyes, sharp talons, heed me! On this day a new fletching rises to the sky! I have taken Ishoud under my wing, he has my faith and today he will prove to you all that he is ready to enter the tribe as an initiated. Who will rise against him?” Ishintar called, arms raised towards the gathered crowd.

At first no one moved out of the gathered tribe, or spoke. This was usually the way, but Ishoud new he was not well liked amongst his people, and sure enough a familiar voice broke the morning stillness. “The little beetle is not worthy, Ishintar, and if you were not so set on becoming Khan you would know this. He may be your blood, but lacks your conviction. He belongs in the dark below, and should not taint the winds with his trembling feathers” said Giramoud and stepped out of the crowd. Ishoud knew the ramifications, but did not want to believe that his cousin would have to fight for him.

“Giramoud, you do have the right to speak up against me and mine, but you are bound to defend them. Will you face Ishoud in defence of your words, or forever live in shame?” Ishintar asked the hulking warrior walking towards the raised formation of redstone. At his words a whisper rose in the crowd, and people on the platform shifted uncomfortably.  Giramoud himself seemed stunned by the implications, much like Ishoud was. “Fight him? Are you not his champion? Did you not, just moments ago, say that you had him under your wing?” Giramoud said, clenching his jaw.
“I did. I shall protect him from any serious threat that appears. I will be vigilant in my watch, but so far I see none” Ishintar said, drawing a surprised laugh from the crowd. Giramoud did not seem as amused as the rest of them. He leaped on top of the platform face red and arms stretched out to the sides, dropping into a fighting crouch. “I will end him quick, and challenge you after, coward” he said.

Ishoud’s head swam, he had no idea what had just happened. Had Ishintar abandoned him? This was not how it was supposed to be! He was supposed to fly this day, not fight a full initiate, a seasoned veteran. But that seemed to be what was fast approaching. The elders and his cousin were all moving off the platform, leaving him alone with the enraged warrior.

Slowly, far to slowly he was becoming aware of the reality of his situation. Giramoud seems a little more smug now, he grinned at Ishoud and met his eyes. “I will crush you, little beetle, and toss you down to the bottom so that your brethren may feed on you” he said, approaching in his fighting stance, crouched low. Ishoud barely remembered his training, and he knew he could not match the strength or experience of his opponent. Scrambling backwards, circling around seemed like the best choice at the moment, but he knew it would not last.

Giramoud was not known for his patience, and quickly closed in on Ishoud, moving in at an angle to cut of his circling retreat. “Come now, little beetle. Don’t be shy, I’m sure your other cousins down in the gorge are a lot more eager to greet you than the one up here ever was” Giramoud said, Feinting to the right and than moving in to grab a hold of Ishouds left shoulder. He managed to slip out of the way and create some space between them, but Giramoud was unrelenting, and Ishoud knew no way to fight back. Tired of being chased around, tired of being scared and being called names he gambled and rushed his opponent head on. For a moment it seemed it would work, Giramoud looked genuinely surprised at the move. But as he was crashed into his opponent Giramouds instincts seemd to take over and somehow he twisted during the fall, making sure that he landed on top of Ishoud on the rocky ground, knocking the air out of his lungs.

Ishouds vision was blurry, small black spots were dancing in front of his eyes, but he could still make out the silhouette of the burly warrior above him, blocking out the early morning sunlight. There was something odd about him though; he could see a shimmering outline surrounding the warrior, a weak halo of feathers and a sharp beak in front of his face. The outline trembled as Giramoud moved, but it was still there, clear as day. “Time to die, little beetle” the warrior said, oddly calm now, and grabbed a hold around his through with both of his callused hands.  Ishould tried to pull away, but he was still dizzy from the fall, and his hands could not loosen the powerfull warriors grip on his throat. A crimson-tinted darkness was creeping in on the edges of his vision, and panic clawed at his mind. He thrashed and turned, but barely managed to inconvenience his opponent.

Head turned to the side, cheek pressed against the stone he was desperate for air. That was when he saw it. A black, gleaming beetle scuttling from rock to rock, it’s formidable mandibles held proudly before it. He was not a proud eagle, he would not soar in the sky. But that did not mean he could not fight back. As he watched the beetle parted the shell on it’s back, showing multiple layered wings and took to the air. Be the beetle he though, drowsy from asphyxiation.

Giramoud had been surprised by Ishintars move, but had come to see the wisdom of it. Having his cousin killed did nothing to jeopardize his position as khan, but it did tire out his prime rival, even if it was only a little. As he was squeezing the life out of the fletching he felt the presence of his eagle form gather around him. It usually did when he fought, but he refused to transform this time. The little beetle did not deserve the honor.

Just as he though so something moved between his closed fingers, pushing them aside and loosening his tight grip on Ishouds windpipe. There was another presence there, sudden and strong. it surrounded the fletchling that he was entangled with. Before he had time to react six long legs sprouted around him, their hooked joints digging into the flesh on his sides and back. Horrified he tried to reach for his own totem and escape towards the sky, but his mind was reeling from that was happening. Before his eyes to gigant mandibles formed and quickly closed around his neck. To bottomless pools of darkness stared back at him from a face filled with sharp edges and thick plating, and before the massive jaws snapped close he though he saw himself falling towards the bottom of the gorge, ever downwards. At the bottom, he knew, the cousins of the monster awaited him, eager for the feast.