A Call for Brighter Days: Aeriel Trilogy #2
Chapter 5

“What I’d like to know is where the mafia is getting all the reinforced sif for these brandings.” Simani’s fingers tightened around the mug of hot chocolate. “Not to mention, how the hell did they manage to lure those Aeriels into working for them and fighting against their own kind?”

“With money?” Vikram suggested. “I mean, Ruban said that the Aeriel Queen–”

“Tauheen?” Simani prompted.

“Yes, her. Ruban said she wanted to use the reinforced sifblade formula to gain dominion over earth and Vaan, right?”

“Something like that,” Ruban muttered, stealing a glance at Ashwin. “She wasn’t exactly sane.” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Or very coherent,” Ashwin agreed. “But that seemed to be the general idea, yes.”

“In that case, what’s to say these Aeriels aren’t simply using the feather mafia to get the money and resources that’d allow them to launch a large-scale offensive against humanity?” Vikram asked. “They could use the money for better weaponry, a stronger base of operations. And with the mafia on their side, they’d have access to more manpower than Tauheen ever did. The queen’s vision, updated for the new age.”

“Possible, but unlikely,” Ashwin said, munching on a slice of shahi tukda. “As far as I’ve seen, none of the Aeriels working with the feather mafia are vankrai. Haven’t heard of any vankrai joining up with the mafia, either. Most of the ones still alive are baying for the blood of Tauheen’s killer. And feather-born Aeriels wouldn’t do all that planning and strategizing. Not their forte.”

Vikram nodded. “That’s true. Feather-born Aeriels are impulsive and hedonistic. Usually avoidant, when it comes to problems. If there are no vankrai to direct them, feather-borns likely wouldn’t be working towards any long-term goals.”

Ruban raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you were an expert on the vankrai, Vik.”

“I’m not. It’s common knowledge in academic circles.” Vikram gave him a self-deprecating smile. “Not the kind of thing they teach at Hunter school, I gather.”

“It isn’t. Nothing useful seems to be.”

“The more important question,” Simani interjected, looking at Ashwin through narrowed eyes. “Is how does a Zainian aristocrat know so much about the vankrai?”

“Well, he was there when we ambushed Tauheen last year.” Ruban’s heart thundered against his ribcage as he spoke. “Probably overheard something. She talked an awful lot before she died.”

“I can attest to that,” Ashwin nodded solemnly. Ruban’s fingers itched to punch him in that smug face.

“I’d give an arm and a leg to have been a fly on that wall.” Vikram sighed dreamily. “Hearing the infamous Aeriel queen speak of her own history and origins, her goals and desires… Many of my colleagues would trade their first-born children for that.”

Simani frowned. “And yet, you keep saying they have no goals.”

“They do, although they’re usually of the immediate and hedonistic variety. Though Tauheen was almost certainly a vankrai, according to the records. Most contemporary accounts suggest her firstborn, a daughter, was a vankrai as well. Although she did, at one point, have a feather-born child; gender unknown.”

“You think this child of hers might be working with the mafia?” Simani leaned forward, her eyes alight with interest. “Keeping mommy’s legacy alive and all that.”

Ruban choked on his hot chocolate. Ashwin patted him soothingly on the back, his face impassive.

“Unlikely,” Vikram said, chewing thoughtfully on jalebi crumbs. “Though of course, we don’t have enough data on Aeriel psychology to say anything for certain. But from all the materials and research we currently have available, purebred Aeriels don’t seem inclined to making and executing long-term plans. They’re…”

“Irresponsible?” Ruban suggested helpfully. “Flighty? Capricious?”

“Bubbleheaded!” Hiya said decisively, drawing a giggle from Sri.

“Not the adjectives I would’ve chosen, but not far off the mark,” Vikram conceded. “Unsurprising, considering their…unique evolutionary path.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ruban asked.

Vikram’s eyes twinkled and Ruban cursed himself for walking into a trap. There was no getting away from another long-winded lecture on Aeriel history now.

“Think about it, Ruban. Until the discovery of sif six hundred years ago, the Aeriels had literally never faced a problem they couldn’t fly away from. Nothing but sif can kill them, and sif didn’t exist until a few centuries ago. Or at least, nobody knew it existed. For all intents and purposes, Aeriels were unkillable. Immortal. They could just out-wait all of their problems until it died or went away.”

“That’s it. You’ve triggered him.” With a sigh, Simani pulled her legs up onto the sofa and settled down with a plate of dessert crumbs. “If we recorded a few of these, we could cure insomnia.”

Vikram glared at her. “They should’ve taught you this stuff at Bracken. After all, you can’t fight what you don’t understand.”

Simani held up her hands, smiling. “You know I love you – boring professor-mode and all.”

“It wouldn’t be boring if you paid attention. The Aeriels were – are – fascinating, in their own way. They sustained themselves on sunlight, abundantly available both on earth and in Vaan. They were capable of flight and nigh-invulnerable – hard to injure, incapable of sickness. Even when they did get injured, they healed quickly–”

“You’re a fanboy, we get it.” Ruban rolled his eyes. “How does any of that explain the bubbleheaded flightiness?”

“How does it not? Don’t you see? The Aeriels evolved in conditions of abundance. What’d they have ever needed to plan for? Procuring and storing food? It’s not like the sun would fail to rise one fine day. Defending against predators? What creature hunts Aeriels?”

“Human,” Ashwin said, smiling.

“That’s true, but we’ve only been able to do so for less than six hundred years, ever since we got our hands on sif. And six hundred years is the blink of an eye, in terms of Aeriel evolutionary history. Not even two whole generations, insofar as an immortal species can even have generations. Not enough time for any significant adaptation to have occurred. Especially not since there’s usually no sexual selection involved.”

“So you’re saying that the Aeriels can’t be bothered to give a shit because they’ve just had it so damn easy all this time?” Ruban smirked, stealing an involuntary glance at Ashwin. “Somehow, I don’t find that hard to believe.”

“The feather-born Aeriels, yes. The vankrai, of course, have human blood. They’re a different story altogether. If anything, they give too much of a shit.”

Ruban pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, Dawad mentioned.”

“Not to me. He always liked you better.” Simani rose to her feet, yawned and stretched. “Not that I’m allowed to miss class, thanks to my darling husband. But if I don’t hear something other than his lecture-voice now, I will fall asleep behind the wheel on the way back.” She reached for the remote and aimed it at the TV on the opposite wall. “The channel will be chosen by majority vote.”

Sri and Hiya threw their hands into the air in favor of cartoon, while Ruban and Vikram opted for drama and music respectively. Simani settled on sports and they all turned to look expectantly at Ashwin as the television flickered to life.

Terrified screams, muffled by the sounds of intermittent explosions, drew their eyes to the TV. “Reports just coming in of the latest attack by the feather mafia in a residential neighborhood of the North Ragah Division.” The screen cut to a studio, where Viman Rai of CXN spoke to the camera, his expression somber. “Some buildings in the area have been severely damaged and experts believe that the number of casualties could be in the hundreds. The Hunter Corps has been deployed, yet the fighting seems unlikely to end anytime soon.”

The scene shifted, and the sitting room once again reverberated with the sounds of screams and explosions. Ruban’s phone rang but his fingers refused to move. He sat transfixed, eyes glued to the TV, forcing himself to keep breathing.

On the screen, buildings burned in the background while chunks of concrete and metal crashed sporadically into the sidewalk. People ran screaming in all directions.

Above them, at least four Aeriels were flying around, throwing energy shells at one another. Occasionally, the shells hit their targets. Usually, they hit a building, which swayed precariously before – sometimes – tipping over and crashing into the one beside it. The ground below was littered with overturned vehicles, chunks of concrete, and mangled, unmoving human bodies.

Helicopters buzzed overhead and the faint sound of gunfire permeated through the din. Not that guns would be of any use against Aeriel combatants. They’d have to airdrop Hunters into the fray, though Ruban wasn’t sure if that’d be an improvement.

As they watched, one of the Aeriels shot towards a swaying building, its wings pulled in close around its body, and plucked two screaming humans from a balcony. Moments later, an energy shell hit the building and it collapsed.

The Aeriel flipped mid-air to avoid another shell, never loosening its hold on the humans, then swept downwards. It put the humans down beside an undamaged bike, then turned away and soared immediately into the air to rejoin the fight above. The camera moved to another Aeriel that had just been hit by a shell and was careening towards the ground, its broken wings outstretched.

“Ruban,” Simani said, her voice hoarse. “Tell me I didn’t just see that.”

Ruban glanced at Ashwin, who was staring at the TV with a pained expression. “I wish I could,” he whispered, looking away.

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