Rivalry

Nydelig dropped through the top of the trees, blue vines wrapped around her. She twirled as she fell, the vines slowly releasing her while the sun shone beautifully against her yellow feathers. Dyktigen could not help but watch her as her wings spread from her back, revealing all of her majesty. She began gliding above him as he continued running on all fours, claws extended from his fingertips.

Focus, Dyktigen scolded himself, shaking his head and increasing speed.

His vision became a dark green blur as he ran through the jungle, Nydelig soaring above him. Without any warning, he skidded to a stop and began climbing the green tree as rapidly as he possibly could. Nydelig dove past him. He pushed off of the tree and dove after her. Nydelig opened her wings once more, slowing her fall and allowing Dyktigen to land on her back. He wrapped his legs around Nydelig’s waist as they both began soaring once more.

“That was the fastest time yet!” Nydelig exclaimed.

“Awesome! If we can convince our tribes to merge, we can teach them how to do this maneuver for battle. Just imagine combining flight with a ranged weapon! We would be unstoppable!”

Nydelig chuckled. “Or they could just mount us from the ground.”

“That’s not as epic or fun.”

“Okay, you got me there,” Nydelig said. “The leaves are such a pretty pink this morning.”

“Yeah. Only thing prettier is you,” Dyktigen said.

Nydelig blushed as she began flying lower to the ground. “I have bad news, Dyktigen,” she said after a pause.

“What’s that?”

“Some of my friends and family in Flygere have noticed a change in my behaviour. They sent scouts out to figure out where I was going every morning, and they were not pleased to see that I was with a man from Poter. They told me that I can see you one more time, then I have to forget about you, or there will be consequences to face. For me and you.”

As she said this, she landed, and Dyktigen dropped from her back.

“What are you going to do?” he asked, slowly standing up.

“I don’t really have a choice, Dyktigen. We have to stop seeing each other.”

Dytigen’s heart dropped. Tears began to form in his eyes. “But I love you, Nydelig.”

“And I love you. But our love is forbidden. If anyone else finds out from any of our tribes, we could face some serious trouble.”

“I am not afraid of becoming an outcast if it means being with you for the rest of my life,” Dyktigen said.

“I think we both know that being outcast is not what they would do to us.”

Dyktigen stepped forward and hugged Nydelig. Nydelig relaxed in his firm embrace. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

Nydelig looked into his teary eyes. “I don’t want to lose you either. But staying together will result in the death of one or both of us. I love you, Dyktigen. Don’t you ever forget that,” she said, then kissed him.

“I love you, too.”

She began flapping her wings. “Good-bye,” she said, then flew towards her village.

Dyktigen sat down and rested his head in his hands. “I love you,” he whispered.

⇔

Dyktigen ran through the woods at top speed. Four years had passed since he had seen Nydelig. He thought about her constantly. She was the only thing he ever dreamt about. He wanted nothing more than to hug her and kiss her and tell her that he loves her. But both tribes still despised the other.

Slowly, Poter came into view.

Poter was Dyktigen’s tribe. The people of Poter resembled cat-people, though they did not have fur. They had grey skin, retractable claws in their fingers, cat-like reflexes, and elf ears. They wore their hair in braids that hung down their backs. The people of Poter were incapable of growing facial hair, but they did have whiskers. Men typically trimmed their whiskers, while women grew theirs out. Though bipedal, they could run at much greater speeds if they ran on all fours.

The actual village of Poter consisted of hundreds of wooden houses. Most lived in single-story homes with vines craftily woven to act as a roof. Those who lived in multiple story houses were either great warriors, nobles, or those who were well respected. In the center of the town was a six-story building where the leaders of the tribe met. The whole village was surrounded by a wall that stood one hundred feet tall. Two guards stood at the top of the entrance and two stood in the entrance. The entrance was open during the day, and closed at night. In order to enter at night, one must speak to one of the guards in front of the door. They would then signal the guards on top who would pull a lever and open the door. Six of these doors existed.

Dyktigen ran through the gates and headed towards the center of the village. Upon reaching the center, he entered the large building where the leaders met.

“May I help you?” a young woman asked as Dyktigen stood up and readjusted his backpack.

“I need to speak with General Krigshelt.”

“On what business?”

“He sent me to scout the Fienden camp. I have returned, and need to see him immediately.”

“He’s in a meeting right now. He won’t be available for another hour or so,” the receptionist said, breaking eye contact and examining her claws.

“Trust me, his meeting is far less important than the information I have.”

The receptionist rolled her eyes. “Listen, he’s busy. You’re just going to have to come back later.”

“Thanks for the help,” Dyktigen said, then walked towards the stairs in the back of the room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

“I think you know,” Dyktigen answered with a wink.

The receptionist sprang from her seat and threw herself onto Dyktigen. “I can’t let you do that,” she said, pressing her claws beneath Dyktigen’s chin.

“You have to be kidding me. This is urgent,” Dyktigen said.

“What’s the message?”

Moments later, Dyktigen burst into the meeting room with the receptionist right behind him. “Sir, your scout has returned with a very urgent message,” she said.

Dyktigen saluted General Krigshelt. Krigshelt returned the salute, then said, “What is it, Lieutenant?”

Dyktigen pulled his backpack off, then pulled a piece of paper from within. He threw it on the table, narrowly missing the head of an important village official. “Sorry,” he said as he walked towards the table. “Probably shouldn’t have thrown it. I’m a little excited.” Dyktigen unrolled the piece of paper.

“What is thi--oh! Well done, Lieutenant!” General Krigshelt exclaimed.

“This is a map showing where they are going to strike next. And this,” Dyktigen said, pulling another paper from his backpack, “details exactly what the plan of attack is.” Dyktigen gave the paper to Kringshelt.

“This could have waited.”

“No, it couldn’t have waited. These are the plans for tonight.”

“What is this right here? We don’t have a camp over there,” Kringshelt asked, pointing at an area on the map that clearly indicated a second camp.

“I’m not sure. The plans don’t mention it.”

“They must be at war with multiple tribes,” someone in the room offered.

“They are either insane or way stronger than we think they are if that is the case, Politiker,” Kringshelt replied.

“Let’s hope it’s the former,” Politiker replied.

“I recommend that you get this information to Admiral Krigere as quickly as you possibly can,” General Kringshelt said.

“Yes, sir,” Dyktigen replied, then saluted.

General Kringshelt returned the salute.

Dyktigen ran out of the building as quickly as his two legs could carry him. Once out of the building, he got onto all fours and sprinted towards the camp.

Once he arrived, he immediately ran to the large tent near the center. He entered and found Admiral Krigere sitting at a table, speaking with his strategists. He looked up from his conversation and said, “What brings you here, Dyktigen?”

“There is going to be an attack tonight. And I have the battle plans.” Dyktigen gently set the map and letter onto the table. “They are rushing us from the south and the east. They plan to do this while we sleep. I think we could set some archers on the hills half a mile south, and hide the rest of the army in the valley that the Fienden will have to walk through to reach us. If executed properly, we should be able to take them by surprise.”

“What’s this camp directly northeast of ours?” Krigere asked.

“I don’t know. Would you like me to scout it out?”

“No, we don’t have time. Grab your bow and spread the word. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

⇔

Dyktigen notched an arrow and aimed into the valley. He could see a torch in the distance.

He let the arrow fly. It whistled as it soared through the air and stuck into the side of a tree. It was a signal arrow, designed by the Poter to mimic the call of an owl.

Dyktigen smiled as those around him readied themselves.

In a few short minutes, the army of Fienden was in the center of the valley. Dyktigen notched another arrow. All the others followed suit. Almost at once, every bowman released their arrows onto the unsuspecting army beneath them.

Immediately, the Poter army emerged from their hiding spots and charged the Fienden.

The lizard people and the Poter clashed together in a huge battle that lasted for hours. The archers were rushed and had to put down their weapons and join in claw-to-claw combat.

At first, things were looking good for the Porter army. After an hour of battle, however, the Fienden gained the upper hand. The Poter retreated, sprinting back to camp.

⇔

The Flygere soared over the battle, watching as the Fienden and the Poter fought. When the Poter began their retreat, he flew back to his camp, which was northeast of the Poter camp.

His camp was far superior to the camps of the Fienden and the Poter, for the Flygere were a tree dwelling people. The Flygere had orange skin, wings on their backs, and vision incomparable to any other living creature. They had four toes on their leathery feet, each containing one massive talon, perfect for gripping an enemy by the shoulders, soaring them into the air, then dropping them some distance below. Feathers hung from the back of their arms, leading to their back which was almost entirely covered with feathers. Feather color varied. They wore tight-fitting pants and shirts to limit wind resistance when they flew. Their faces were completely humanoid.

He flew through his camp, which consisted of small tents placed skillfully on the sides of many trees. Eventually, he found the main tent.

Inside the main tent was a large vine net, tightly bound between four trees to make a large, walkable surface. There were no chairs, and the table was not very high off of the floor.

“Colonel,” the scout said, approaching a massive, black-feathered man in the middle of the tent.

“Airman,” he acknowledged.

“The Fienden are approaching camp as we speak. The Poter barely escaped with their lives. They are much, much stronger than we anticipated.”

The Colonel turned towards the scout and approached him slowly. “The Poter barely escaped? They must have been blindsided.”

“No, sir. It was the Fienden who were outnumbered.”

“But the Poter are far superior strategists, and much better warriors. If this is the case--”

“We don’t stand a chance, sir.”

The Colonel began pacing.

“We could stick to just our talons, sir,” the scout offered.

The Colonel thought for a second. “No. We would be shot down before we could send a second wave. How long before the next attack?”

“I would imagine they would attack tomorrow afternoon.”

“Maybe we will attack tonight when they set up camp.”

“Now that they know we know, I doubt that they will set up camp. Our best option would be to tell the others to be prepared for battle,” the scout replied.

⇔

Dyktigen pulled out a second paper from his backpack now that he was back at camp. Plans to attack the Flygere camp. He was going to secretly deliver this to the Flygere, but now he was thinking that the better choice would be to trick Admiral Krigere into thinking that he intercepted more plans for attack.

He left his tent and searched for Krigere.

He found Krigere pacing near the fire in the center.

“We were almost crushed out there,” he said, noticing Dyktigen approach him.

“We have a second opportunity,” Dyktigen replied. “I intercepted a second paper. They plan to attack us from the northeast. Turns out, that friendly camp was actually a Fienden camp,” Dyktigen lied.

“When did you get this paper?”

“I found it on the body of a man I killed today,” Dyktigen lied again.

“When should we attack?”

“Noon tomorrow. We should head out at ten. We’ll meet them long before they have time to fully prepare.”

“This is our last hope. If we lose this battle, the Fienden will win.”

The Poter army left early the next morning. As they approached the camp, they heard sounds of battle.

“What’s going on?” Krigere asked Dyktigen as they neared the raging battle.

“I lied. You saw what happened to us. The Flygere would be much worse off. Besides, maybe together we can defeat the enemy.”

“HALT!” Krigere called to the line. The Poter army stopped. “We are not fighting alongside the Flygere.”

“We are allies against an enemy that is stronger than each of us. That is our last hope: the Flygere.”

Admiral Krigere glared at Dyktigen. “Lieutenant, you lied to me. But you’re right. Today, we must join the Flygere in battle. Forward, MARCH!”

The Poter rushed into battle, archers staying on the edge of the woods, the rest running straight towards the enemy.

Dyktigen began slashing through the enemy lines, gouging out eyes and cutting throats in the process.

He jumped onto the chest of an enemy, then flipped onto the back of another. He broke the enemy’s neck before sticking his claws deep into the throat of the enemy he had jumped off of. He looked up and saw a familiar yellow flash.

They made eye contact. “Nydelig,” he whispered to himself.

She looked at him and winked. He nodded and began running through the enemy lines. He jumped onto an enemy, then jumped onto a tree and began climbing it. Nydelig dove past him, and he flipped off of the tree. As practiced, he landed onto her back. The battle seemed to pause for a second as many looked up in awe at Nydelig and Dyktigen as they soared over the enemy lines.

Nydelig gripped an enemy in her talons and flew up. Dyktigen pulled a bow from his back, notched three arrows, then watched as the three arrows masterfully hit their mark.

A few Flygere flew to the ground and ran to the Dyktigen archers. Other Flygere threw their swords onto the ground and flew over to the archers. Pretty soon, there was a legion of Poter riding on the back of Flygere.

The tides of the battle quickly turned, and the Fienden fled. But the Poter and Flygere flew after the fleeing Fienden and killed them.

After the battle, Admiral Krigere approached the Colonel. “This is only our third victory. I think that we should…”

“Put our past prejudices behind us and join forces?”

“Yes. That.”

“Agreed. Come with me. Let’s discuss this in further detail in my tent.”

As the Colonel flew off with Admiral Kirgere, Nydelig and Dyktigen landed.

“I think about you every day,” he said as they finally stood face to face once again.

“So do I. I told you that I loved you, Dyktigen.”

“I wrote you a poem.”

“Well, let’s hear it!” she replied excitedly.

“Your smile is prettier than the two suns

That shine above us.

I love you, and don’t want to leave you

And yes, that’s true

I want to see you again.”

“I love you too,” she said. “But poetry is not your thing.”

“I know, I know, but--”

“Shut up and kiss me already,” Nydelig said, pulling him to her. For the first time in over four years, they kissed once more.

⇔

Dyktigen entered his home after another year of battle. He was happy to finally be home once more. Happy that they had finally won the war against the Fienden.

“Welcome home!” his wife called to him. She rounded the corner, and the first thing Dyktigen noticed was her stomach.

“You’re pregnant…?” Dyktigen asked skeptically, slowly approaching his wife.

“We’re going to be parents!” she exclaimed. Her face seemed to glow with excitement.

Dyktigen began to smile. Hugging and kissing his wife, he said, “I love you, Nydelig.”