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Rated: E · Fiction · Fantasy · #1883442
A desperate flight home.

Worlug flew through the trees; the wings growing out his back were starting to get tired. He’d change them out at the next town, but first he had to make sure he had lost his pursuers.

He could hear them, crashing through the trees, not slowing down as they barreled through trunks three feet thick. They weren’t fast, but they didn’t slow down, and going in a straight line was always preferable to having to fly around tree feathers.

Worlug tucked his wings and arms in as he flew through two branches; trying to gain some distance on the Blant’s following him. The sound of Verumps overhead kept him from flying above the treetops, and besides, his wings were nearing their limit. He wouldn’t be able to get much higher for much longer.

Finally, he came to a clearing, but unfortunately for Worlug, There were people waiting for him. A great net sprang up around the trees, trapping him in the clearing. Verumps whizzed overhead, aiming their stingers down, as if daring Worlug to try to fly over the nets, even if his wings would let him.

Worlug looked into the eyes of the Magpie of Merledon. He led a group of magpoi, the regular soldiers of Merledon’s army.

“Worlug.” The Magpie said accusatorily, spittle dripping from the end of his snout as he tried, in vain, to mimic the speech of Corluscant, Worlug’s home nation. “Stealing a pair of wings. I would have thought that beneath you.”

“When you’ve been trapped as long as I have, a few principles go out the window.” Worlug said, floating to the ground to give his wings a rest. They wouldn’t be able to take too much more, and he didn’t want to waste their energy hovering. Also, he wanted to make sure he was close to the ground when he pulled his ace out of his sleeve.

“Just give yourself up, Worlug.” The Magpie said. “I’ll take you back to Queen Mag, and everything will be fine again.”

“Except for the part where I’m a toy.” Worlug said, absently putting his hands in his robe pocket.

“Humans. Always obsessed with freedom.” The Magpie said. “When will you learn that the only good in life is the pleasures you can bring out of it. Is your position really that bad? Do you not enjoy the benefits that your so called captivity brings you?”

Remembering back on his time spent with the corpulent Queen, Worlug could honestly say he would not miss a single moment.

“Tell you what, you envy my job so much, why don’t you take it?” Worlug said, thumbing a switch on the device in his pocket. He started counting in his head.

“You know the Queen of Merledon prefers your kind, though I can hardly see why. Your hair is in the wrong place, you only have two arms, and your lips are much too soft.”

“I think it’s our fingers the Queen prefers.” Worlug said. He was at a 30 count in his head. Halfway there.

“Well, Worlug, maybe we’ll have to deprive you of those fingers.” The Magpie said. “Now, enough dawdling. Our Mistress and Savior of Merledon is beginning to feel…frisky, and you must come back, now.”

The Magpie stepped forward, but Worlug was ready. He threw his hand up, releasing a Gorump bomb into the air. Immediately, he dove to the ground, shielding his eyes as a brilliant flash of light, twenty times brighter than the Skyfire, shot through the air. Worlug counted to ten, and felt, rather than saw, the light go dim.

When he looked up, every Magpoi was on the ground, blinded, including the husky Magpie. He looked up into the sky and saw the Verumps flying overhead, ramming into each other and the feathered trees, unable to see anything.

Worlug allowed himself a small smirk as he shot into the air, choosing a random direction (as long as it was away from the Merledon) and flying at full speed through the trees.

Those exposed to a Gorump Light Bomb usually didn’t gain the use of their eyes for a few days, but Worlug didn’t want to chance it. He flew until he saw the smoke in the distance, signifying the closest of the cities of Corluscant. Worlug flew fast, quickly draining what energy his wings had left, setting himself down gently as the wings melted off his back, falling to the ground. The bones of the wings folded in on themselves, becoming small and compact.

Worlug picked up the bones, folding them into his backpack. Perhaps he could energize them later. For now, he would have to walk the rest of the way home.

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