Not an hour after silence had fallen on the hill the kobels called a mountain, their shaman had come out of the keep.
A crowd of warriors waited for him, asked him what had happened.
"It is done." Was his answer.
And he turned to Savae. He wanted her to find and bring Tunu back. To bring the chief, to bring everyone.
And if they found the scaled kobel quite easily, with him heading there already, no one could find the old kobel. Their leader was not at his house, nor could the servants tell where he had gone. It became a frantic search.
Yet even without him, the moment Tunu arrived his friend Etelet stopped waiting.
With him were the two eternal black fawns.
"Draw your weapons. Kill everyone in that tower, but the wyvern and the prisoner."
"Eh, shaman!" A warrior stopped him. "How about you tell us what this is all about?"
"Yeah! The chief is the one giving orders."
That made Etelet sigh.
"We have uncovered the secret to getting scales. We have obtained secrets even more precious and dangerous. They must not leave the tribe."
At that the warriors nodded, then turned to the scaled kobel.
"What do you say, chief? A good massacre?"
"Who is the prisoner?" The kobel asked in return.
"Tuorka."
"Then everyone but Uokror and Tuorka. It has been a long time, let's enjoy it!"
Inside was more than a hundred savages, most armed, turned feral by days and days and days of madness. Those with collars had already collapsed, leaving a crowd rabid.
They offered a furious resistance, but with Tunu at the helm and kobels wearing scales, soon the bodies piled in those vast chambers.
Some ran away and they had to chase quite far to put them down.
The warriors found Tuorka chained in the basement, surrounded by stench and rot. He too had scales now. Against his will he had got scales and when they saw them the other warriors got jealous, because those were rough.
But someone had sawn his horns.
So they carried them up to the ground floor, then up as the ilk retreated further.
The second floor, the third, the fourth, offered no refuge for what remained. Those were the ones that still had enough reason to fear death, and so the hid where they could, holding their breath until the iron found them.
By the time they reached the roof, not a single savage remained.
There was the wyvern, heavily chained.
While many warriors remained below, some followed the scaled kobel out there if only to breathe some fresh air, exhale after bathing in that horrid smell.
Etelet followed, Tuorka in tow.
Savae closed the march.
There was the Uokror, with broken pieces of metal littering the ground around. When his friend saw him he yelled:
"Uokror! What have they done to you?!"
But Tunu had recognized that heavy, black iron riveted on the beast's neck. The same sick green engravings swirled and sizzled.
The creature's breath had calmed down. Its eyes remained closed.
"We now have the means to capture monsters." The shaman explained. "We have chains to restrain them and collars to tame. Not even the worst of nature is out of our reach now."
"Bastard! You said you would free him!"
"And I will."
He gestured for the warriors who, in turn, looked at Tunu. And when Tunu nodded, they went to pull of the stakes, not without great effort. One by one the chains loosened. They dragged them out, leaving the beast's body untouched.
Uokror opened his eyes.
They were so calm.
He got up, preened his wing a little, then just stood there, not even giving a look at anyone.
"Now, Uokror." Etelet approached. "You might finally tell us the truth. Where did you find that black heart?"
The winged kobel turned his head toward the shaman, then gave a small roar.
He had forgot how to talk.
"Etelet!" Tunu worried. "You said you would not harm him!"
"Strange. He understands us. There should be no reason for the collar to suppress his words. Tell us, are you hurt, have I harmed you?"
The beast shook his head.
"I suppose yes and no will have to do. Then. Were you planning to eat us all?"
Another shake.
"To capture us? To use us? What betrayal did you have in mind, beast?!"
All Uokror did was keep shaking no.
So Tunu walked up: "Did you want to be friends?"
A nod.
Since the shaman would not ask more questions he continued.
"Did you feel alone?" A nod. "Did you want a new tribe?" After an hesitation, he shook no. "You didn't want a tribe?"
It gave a small, pitiful roar.
Yes, Uokror had wanted a tribe. It was that word, new, that had forced him to say otherwise.
And it was Tunu's time to fall into silence. Both him and Etelet looked at that winged kobel before them, waiting patiently for their next order.
"Did you know we would capture you?" A shake. "Did you know we would put that collar." Another. "You mean you trusted us?!"
Once more, after an hesitation Uokror said no. Not even he would have fallen in such delusion, not after Tuorka had warned him so many times. Kobels killed, stole, pillaged. It was in their nature.
It was that word, know, that had let him shake his head.
Did he actually know, for the chains, for the collar, who could tell. Only a monster's heart could understand them.
"Free tuorka." Tunu ordered.
The warriors released him. He stumbled on the ground, found the strength to get up then took a step toward his friend.
But the champion put himself between them.
"Now, Tuorka, tell me the truth. And if you lie, I will only have to turn around to tell." It was a threat. "Is Uokror actually a kobel?"
He had wanted to believe that. He had wanted so much to believe in that fable. First and foremost to have someone like him, someone who could share his weight. Second because it gave him hope for the tribe. And later, later because it meant his heart wasn't the only way.
That was a lot of false hopes hanging on Tuorka's silence.
But of course, he didn't have to turn to get his answer. Just looking at the old kobel's eyes was enough.
No, Uokror had been born a wyvern. Uokror, by some madness, had chosen the path of the kobel. And all the lies, the false promises, had been made up so he would be accepted.
"You promised." Tuorka finally said. "Don't hurt him."
"I owe you nothing! But I won't hurt your precious pet. Uokror?"
The wyvern raised its head.
"Time to feed."
Such was sorcery that the intent conveyed perfectly. The wyvern looked at its new prey, stood there a few seconds as if somehow, some remnants of resistance had held it back. But really, it was only that beast gauging its victim.
Tuorka had understood as well. And with no one holding him, when he felt those calm eyes on him he turned to flee.
Maybe it was survival. Most likely it was survival. The habits of an old warrior used to act on instinct. Or maybe it was the thought of his friend being forced to tear his flesh that had him wanting to find another way to end it.
Because there was no escape.
The tower was built so a wyvern could move in it. Even otherwise, the keep stood at the top of a hill, in the middle of a plain filled with savages.
So he rushed to edge and jumped right over the cliff.
The beast right after him.
They both plummeted down into the steam, but when Uokror emerged it was fighting, the kobel entangled in its legs, making its flight erratic. The warriors, from on top, watched them stray and crash into the woods afar.
Flocks of birds flew out of there. Then, nothing. For a minute or two, nothing.
But the wyvern emerged again, to fly back and land on the roof among them. There was so much blood seeping all along the neck, down to the beast's chest, dripping.