Untameable -- Part 1

Blood oozed from the puncture wounds in Zek’s wrist. Sharp, pearl-like claws squeezed his lower-arm tightly.

Should’ve worn the glove, he thought wincing at the pain. He looked at the Voldon bird balancing on his arm, its wingspan was as wide as he was tall and its memory inconveniently short.
‘Use your feet this time, Thrav. Need my Fezzles alive, so no killing, okay?’ the bird cocked its head and regarded him before ruffling its blue and white wings and staring at the sky in anticipation-- it hadn’t listened, it never listened. Zek sighed stroking the large bird’s feathers.
Thrav had been particularly hard to train, although training any animal out of its natural instinct was tough. Voldons were used by the town’s people as hunting birds, usually to catch fezzles: small animals with a powerful sense of smell. Fezzles were delicious, but the prize was in their nose. Their smelling ability allowed them to find delicacies in the forests such as assorted mushrooms, bulbs and insects used in recipes and medicines.

‘Ready?’ Zek said.
Thrav let out a short, sharp squawk. Zek raised his arm slowly, the bird temporarily blocking the sun from his eyes – he marvelled at how well Thrav camouflaged against the Wynter sky.
Typically a Voldon hunted with the sharp horn that protruded from its forehead, the trick was getting Thrav to capture live prey with its feet.
‘One, Two…’ he lowered his arm, ‘three!’ He used his whole body to thrust the weight of the bird into the air. It screeched hysterically and the gust from its beating wings swept Zek’s dirty hair into his eyes. He brushed the strands away with his fingertips and watched Thrav disappear over the nearby forest – it headed towards the desolate Dastopyan Mountains.

In the distance, the bell from his family’s house chimed twice signalling that he was wanted.

After crossing several paddocks and scaling fences, the smoky chimney appeared through ancient trees. There was movement to the left of the barn and Zek eyed four armoured Arxra. The animals moaned as they slurped at a troph of water. Zek recognised one he’d raised from birth, it was pure black whereas Arxra were usually the colour of dirt. Gold saddle stitching shimmered in the morning Wynter light –the royal guard. Zek cursed under his breath. He hated the highborns.
‘You’re wanted your majesty,’ Zeks younger brother, Reevax, woke him from his ruminating. The boy mocked him by bowing low to the ground. His mother had birthed Reevax three years after Zek and with a different father. Reevax’s jealousy of Zek had consumed him. Zek’s father had been a weather god, the god of Wynter. This meant that Zek was destined to be trained in elemental magic as soon as he reached eighteen -- a distinction that had brought him alienation and misery.
Zek kept his eyes on Reevax as he entered the house, he knew his brother would try to trip him or make a fool out of him in some way. This wounded Zek.
Voices came from inside and Zek recognised one in particular, Captain Harka, a monthly visitor at his parent’s humble home. As Zek entered the guest room Captain Harka leaned back in creaky wooden chair and folded his arms. The mood in the room was dark, tense, Zek’s stomach sunk.

Is it time already? He thought. He’d assumed the Captain would be here on animal business, but he’d been here only last week. It was too soon. Zek’s family trained animals for the royal palace, but the mood of the place had him freaked. He was anxious about that day in his future in which the palace would send for him. The day when he would leave his family forever to become an elementalist.

‘Zek, good to see you again.’ Captain Harka stood putting his palm out, Zek lay his on top hesitantly, the greeting of the highborns -- a mark of royal distinction. Zek swallowed his disgust. He was helpless, halfway between worlds, his mannerisms and appearance were lowborn yet his roots were too famous to be forgotten, the blood that ran through his veins made him a highborn. They’d wanted to move Zek to the palace ages ago, but Zek had raised such a fuss that they let him stay with his family.
He searched the Captain’s eyes for a sign of why he had come, but the Captain looked away and cleared his throat.

‘I see the Bnoks look good and strong this season, we’ll need some more to carry cargo between the towns.’

Bnoks were slow, large animals with a flat shell covering their torso. It made them excellent as transport for people and goods. Of course, only the highborn merchants could afford their massive appetites.
The Captain continued.

‘The Arxra you’ve been supplying the royal palace are better than the ones we’ve been importing from Vonya.’

‘Mologo was my favourite.’ Zek replied.

The Captain smiled in the direction of his mount tied up outside, ‘…yes, he’s a pleasure to ride.’

Arxra were obedient and willing, but were cowards in battle-- Zek had paid special attention to Mologo as he had been destined for the captain. That beast was bang proof.
The conversation seemed to dwindle and the ominous feeling returned to his body. Something was wrong.

‘Zek darling…’ his mother began and stopped as she attended to a familiar squawking noise coming from outside.

It was Thrav returned from his hunt.