Wyvern by Wen Spencer Page A

two beasts -- which meant near the nest they’d have to be careful watching their backs.
    "Your viceroy wasn’t completely clear," Kate said. "What are we supposed to do with the wyvern?"
    "Do?"
    "The viceroy said this was a royal hunting preserve. On Earth, when an animal on a preserve causes a problem, we trap it and move it to another location where it’s not in conflict with humans."
    Stormsong shook her head. "Wyverns return to their nesting site, year in, year out.  If we moved them, they would return next year."
    "Zoos on Earth might take a mated pair."
    Stormsong gave a musical laugh. "You might want to risk your life to trap such beasts, but not I. And no. Wyverns need magic to exist. They would die on Earth. Here on Elfhome, they nest on the strongest ley line in their range."
    Native guides always believed in magic, but here it was a real, measurable force. Trying to determine reality from superstition was going to be a real bitch.
    "What else about this animal can you tell me? What does it look like? Is it a bird?" Damn big bird if it was, carrying off the elfin cousin of an African elephant.
    "Wyverns were a forerunner to the dragons. They have four limbs like a bird, not six, so they have no front limbs. Their bones are light but strong, as are their scales."
    "Scales?"
    "These are wyvern scales." Stormsong tapped the vest she was wearing. Kate had never seen the elf without the vest of overlapping glittering scales. Earlier attempts to look at it closer had been rebuffed. From the distance, the stuff looked like steel hammered into seashell shingles, and then somehow dyed blue.
    "It would be nice to know what the fuck I’m dealing with here. Can I see the scales?"
    Stormsong hesitated and then undid something on her left side and peeled back part of the scales. The scales were attached to a leather undergarment with a slit laced shut. The elf female undid the lacing and then wriggled a bit. If Kate had been a man, the show would have been extremely interesting.
    The vest was lined with hard leather. Over it had been tacked a strong cloth, to which scales were sewn into an overlapping pattern. All in all, the vest weighed only ten pounds, but a goodly part of it would have come from the leather. The edges of the scales were sharp and slowly cutting through the leather.
    "Why don’t you grind down the edges?"
    "It is organic carbon. There is nothing stronger that we forge that would grind it down. It can take a pistol bullet at close range without breaking. It is permitted only to the domana and sekasha caste."
    "So this thing…wyvern is bulletproof?" How the hell was she supposed to kill it?
    "It has points of weaknesses."
    "How does it grow? Does it ever shed, like a snake?"
    "No." Stormsong wriggled back into her vest and laced it back up. "The young are born with down, which is why the parents are so protective. They are vulnerable until they molt."
    So she was fighting an armored attack helicopter. Oh golly joy. She wished that she’d thought to bring a missile launcher. She doubted that even her Winchester African with its .458 caliber rounds had enough stopping power for this, but she had nothing bigger back at camp, or on this planet. Kate studied the blood pool. If this splattering of blood and viscera on the southern exposure was from the wyvern arriving from their camp, then the blood trail on the northern exposure was probably from the wyvern taking off. She climbed up to another summit, hoping that Stormsong was right about the wyvern’s sleep habits. She’d seen falcons strike like bullets enough times to be nervous as she scanned the northern horizon.
    Stormsong stood waiting as patiently as any other native guide Kate had ever used. The wind played with the few strands of golden hair that dared to come out of Stormsong’s thick braid down her back.
    In the north lay a several mountains offering possible nesting sites. Hiking for days through virgin forest without GPS, blindly looking for