Flying Aces

[Kikuyu_Black_Paws]

Long ago in the land of Aro a race respectable and old with time began to war amongst each other. The winged humans separated into two groups: the Night and the Dawn. Their brutal fighting filled the skies with individual dog-fights, speeding assassins, and huge war planes that could fit a whole army. Their destruction and hatred seeped through the land and affected all whom it touched. The Night began to transport their new technology over the Dawn in a daring attempt to gain the upper hand and surround them.

 

 

An Attack Gone Wrong

 

 

The huge steel warplane thrummed as it floated slowly over the dulled cities that slept below. The moon glowed brightly in the dark night and stars twinkled coldly around its clock-like face. Two tall young men and a young woman stood at an open doorway, surveying the cities below. Large dark wings were folded against their backs, the silky feathers dancing in the breeze.

 

The young woman adjusted her black bandanna and stared grimly down at the cities. Her hair was black and tipped with scarlet, poking out in long strands from beneath her bandanna. She wore a long-sleeved netted shirt with a loose vest around her chest. Her cargo pants were low on her hips and a silver flute was shoved into one of her belt loops. She played with a small silver loop pierced through one of her ears and turned her dark eyes to the tallest young man. “How much longer, Lieutenant?” she asked in a bell-like voice.

 

The young man smiled grimly. His skin was as pale as the moon above them, his face as open. Black hair hung in sharp locks about his face and he tugged on a strand aimlessly. His jacket of office was also black and his pants neatly pressed and cleaned. He too wore a small silver loop pierced in his ear. “An hour, half and hour maybe.”

 

The other young man, a boy with silvery hair and pale green eyes framed by red tattoos, looked over at the Lieutenant. His sleepy, half-closed gaze made him always look off his guard, but it was a façade he was pleased to see work again and again. “Where are we going?”

 

The Lieutenant pulled out a sheaf of papers. He scanned it with his obsidian eyes. “Just over the range and thirty miles northwest. The others will be waiting for us.”

 

The young girl looked behind them into the shadows of the cargo hold with a small smile. “Maybe we should just drop it on top of them now. Why wait?”

 

The Lieutenant cast her a sharp look. “We have orders, Shannon. Of course they deserve it, but if you want to keep your skin you’ll stay to the rules. Conrad here knows that.”

 

Conrad grinned, his eyes glittering. “You want to see some scars?” he asked eagerly.

 

Shannon wrinkled her nose. “No thanks. I have plenty of my own.”

 

Conrad looked at her with innocent eyes. “Ooh where? Show me!”

 

The Lieutenant punched him on the arm, his eyes hard. “Quit flirting. She’s my sister and you're being too loud.”

 

Conrad rubbed his arm ruefully. “Why are you so tense, Toran?”

 

Shannon peered down at the cities. “It’s being so close to the Dawn.” She spat contemptuously through the door. “It makes him itchy.”

 

Toran shifted uncomfortably. His eyes glinted in the darkness. “We’ll get them soon enough,” he whispered

 

Suddenly the plane rocked wildly and red lights flared in the darkness, lighting up the cargo bay behind them. Toran grabbed his sister’s arm to balance her and Conrad fell on the ground heavily. Sirens began to blast from below them and deep within the city.

 

Toran swore extravagantly. “We’ve been spotted!”

 

An intercom blasted on. “The Dawn are attacking! Repeat, we are under attack!”

 

The plane heaved again and sparks flew as the room behind them lit up. Conrad stared openmouthed as flames crept towards the huge black orb sitting tied to the ground.

 

Toran grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the door. “Jump!” he screamed, shoving his sister and the young man through the door. He followed between them.

 

The three snapped their wings open and began a swift plummet towards the ground, dodging the lasers and huge missiles that speared upwards at the plane above. A huge explosion hit the air and they spiraled crazily. Metal and scraps fell around them. Conrad and Toran dodged wildly, but Shannon was hit by a huge sheet of metal. She cried out and began to fall, her wings stretching askew. Toran screamed and shot after her, Conrad quick behind in an effort to catch her. An explosion filled their ears and a laser shot just before them. The two pulled up hard in an effort not to run afoul of the red line, and by the time their vision had cleared, Shannon was nowhere in sight.

 

Toran swore again, tears on his cheeks, and Conrad’s eyes were wide. Both were panting with adrenalin and horror. Toran swiped the tears from his cheeks and glared downwards. “Come on, we have to get to base.”

 

They turned and soared off, becoming black specks against the moon.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Shannon didn’t move. She didn’t think she could if she had wanted to. Her body was oddly detached from the rest of her and her head throbbed enough as it was. She groaned slightly as waves of pain assailed her eyes and she felt like she was going to vomit. A gentle hand touched her arm, very far away in her mind, and rolled her onto her side as she retched. Cool fingers touched her brow and one of her wings. Sharp fire rolled up her shoulder and she screamed, jerking away from their grip. She opened her eyes.

 

A bright light seared against her eyes and she shut them quickly. The red on her lids faded and she opened her eyes hesitantly. A body swam into focus and she blinked rapidly to make out a male’s worried face. His eyes were golden in color and he had russet brown hair. His face was sharp and his cheeks high-boned. He gently placed a gloved hand on her cheek. His cold fingers made her skin tickle and she jerked away. “Where am I?” she growled.

 

The young man frowned, raising one eyebrow, and turned away. “Your left wing was broken when you fell. I am trying to set it, but you’re resisting the sleep gas. Please don’t fight. If I don’t fix it now, you’ll never fly again.”

 

The realization of her situation hit her hard. Shannon closed her eyes and took a deep breath to clear her mind. “Who are you?” She looked at the young man again.

 

He poured a clear liquid onto a plain white cloth and let it soak for a moment. “My name is Jeremy.” He helped her to sit up a little and pressed the cloth against her mouth and nose. “Breathe deeply.”

 

Shannon obeyed, letting the pungent fumes fill her senses. She kept her eyes on the man before her, watching him cautiously as her mind fogged and her lids dropped. She felt him lean her against the ground again and turn her over. Hands were on her wing but she barely felt them, and then she let the blackness take her.

 

 

She woke again much later. The sky was pink with dawn and the grass rustled gently in a morning breeze. She felt stiff and sore. Slowly she sat up and looked around her. Her left wing was splinted and wrapped tightly. A campfire, still smoking, lay in the center of the clearing. A lantern lay beside it, and a pack of necessities. But the young man who had tended her was nowhere to be seen.

 

Slowly Shannon stood and shrugged her wings tightly against her body. She wouldn’t be flying again for a while.

 

Footsteps crunching in the brush made her whirl and she crouched low in a defensive position. Her memories sharpened and she realized she was still in Dawn territory.

 

Jeremy appeared from the woods, carrying a bundle of dry sticks. He paused as he eyed her. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked.

 

Shannon slowly relaxed, folding herself onto the ground. “Yes.” She watched him build a fire for a few moments. “Where am I?”

 

Jeremy swallowed and glanced at her. “Dawn territory. But I assume you know that.”

 

As he turned, Shannon gasped to see he had bronze wings folded across his back, their russet feathers catching the sun’s rays and glowing in the dawn. “You’re Dawn!” she exclaimed.

 

Jeremy shrugged. “I am in Dawn territory. I’m on guard duty; who knew that a Night would fall right into my camp?”

 

Shannon leapt to her feet, but Jeremy shook his head. “It’s no use,” he said sadly. “If you tried to run, I could catch you before you got far. And I wouldn’t hesitate to break your other wing in the process. I don’t want to do that. So just sit down and have some breakfast.”

 

Shannon sat, trembling, and watched as he made oatmeal. “So I’m your prisoner?” she asked in a shaking voice.

 

Jeremy shrugged again wordlessly. He handed her a bowl of oatmeal.

 

The food was good, hot, and full of raisins and nuts. Shannon ate gratefully, but the meal sat heavily in her stomach and turned to dread. What was she going to do? Conrad and Toran probably thought her dead and had gone on to base. Now she was a hostage, a liability to her own people. The best thing would be to escape, and when escape was not possible...

 

She couldn’t let them bring her to an interrogation site. She would die first. She glared hard at the Dawn. “What are you going to do with me?”

 

Jeremy looked her over slowly. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I assume you would kill yourself before letting me take you to base. So I don’t know what the use would be. But I can’t let you return to your own base.”

 

Shannon began to shake again. Would he try to interrogate her himself? “Why not?”

 

Jeremy cast her a rueful look. “You know the answer to that,” he snapped. “It’s war.” He looked sadly at the rising sun. “I just don’t know,” he muttered.

 

 

 

 

Shannon sat miserably at the corner of the camp and watched as Jeremy sharpened a long blade. Her position was futile and horrid. What she was going to do, she didn’t know. She cast a look at the thick forest to her right. If she ran there, Jeremy wouldn’t be able to follow her on wing. She cast her captor a glance. He stayed intent upon his blade.

 

In a flash she was on her feet and running into the trees. She heard a clatter behind her and a sweep of wings, but she kept running forward, panting in harsh gasps of fear. She leapt over logs and darted around rocks, splashing over a small brook and through a brunch of willow branches. A shadow appeared over her and she cried out as a huge winged object landed on top of her.

 

Jeremy’s face was tight with anger and pain. A long cut traced down the side of his face, his chin was bloodied, and he held one of his wings awkwardly against his side. He had flown into the trees after her anyway. “Why did you run?” he snapped. “I told you not to!”

 

Shannon grinned wildly at him. “Go on! Break my wings! It would be just like a Dawn!”

 

A stricken look crossed Jeremy’s face and he let her drop to the ground. He turned away and sat down on a rock. “Run then,” he muttered. “See how far you get. And then you’ll wish you had stayed out here.”

 

Shannon ignored him and darted into the trees again. She ran until the sun was deep on the horizon and the shadows were growing cold and long in the forest. She sat on a large rock, panting. She glanced around her. No sign of the sun, no direction. She cursed softly and rubbed her forehead, running a finger along the edge of her bandanna.

 

Suddenly a bag was shoved over her head. She screamed and kicked, but hands gripped her limbs tightly and picked her up. Something hard crashed into the back of her head and she fell limp.

Edited November 14, 2007 by Kikuyu Black Paws

[Kikuyu_Black_Paws]

The Prisoner and the Scout

 

 

Shannon stirred and the bag was whipped off of her head. She was tied to a chair, sitting at a steel table in a white room. Panic began to fill her breast and she felt as if she were about to burst. She began to hyperventilate. Pain lanced across her left wing but she ignored it as she struggled. She began to scream. She lifted her legs and kicked the table across the room, writhing in her bonds.

 

Outside the room, two Dawn watched her through a one way window. One was tall with white hair and blue eyes, his silver wings tucked tightly against his body. The other had russet hair and wings, and watched the girl with miserable golden eyes.

 

The taller man turned to Jeremy. “You say she fell from the transport we apprehended two days ago?”

 

Jeremy nodded and turned away from her. The sight of a table full of interrogation tools made his skin crawl and a surprising sensation of guilt filled him. “May I go in to her, General?”

 

The General shrugged. “I don’t see anything wrong with it. Just be careful.”

 

Jeremy shrugged and opened the door.

 

Shannon looked up as Jeremy entered the room, watching her sadly. Enraged, she spat on the ground at his feet, still struggling with her bonds. “Happy now, Dawn?”

 

Jeremy stared at the spit on the ground. “Not really, no. I told you not to run. I said you would be captured, but you didn’t listen.”

 

Shannon relaxed, panting hard and glaring at him. “What are you going to do to me?”

 

Jeremy shrugged. “They’ll want to know what you know,” he muttered, looking at the wall. “I can’t stop them and neither can you. They’ll find out where the Night base is, whether you want them to or not.” Jeremy shook his head. “I told you not to run,” he muttered.

 

Jeremy stared down at the young woman as she fell limp in her chair, her hair falling around her face. Her shoulders heaved with sobs and she shivered violently.

 

“Please,” she begged. “Please...just give me back my flute...”

 

Jeremy frowned and cocked his head to the side. “Flute?”

 

Shannon gazed up at him through a misty gaze of tears. “My flute. They took it from me. Give it back and let me play, that’s all I beg of you!”

 

Jeremy turned and gazed at the wall where the window was. Though he could not see it, he knew the General was searching into the mysterious ‘flute’. Moments later the door opened and a Dawn entered, holding a long, slender, silver flute.

 

Shannon gazed at her instrument eagerly, straining forward in her bonds, her eyes wide. Jeremy swallowed hard at the yearning and pain in her eyes. He bent and untied her hands, but left her legs bound to the chair. “Give it to her,” he said softly. “And leave.”

 

The Dawn cast him a nervous glance and then handed the instrument to the trembling girl. She took the flute in her fingers and touched it reverently. “For you,” she muttered in a cold voice. She placed the flute to her lips and, with her eyes fixed upon Jeremy, began to play.

 

Jeremy felt frozen in time. The notes trembled and wavered about his head, filling his senses. He did not see the ropes untie themselves from her legs, did not really notice when she stood close to him. Vaguely he heard shouts from without and banging on a suddenly locked door. How dare they disrupt such beautiful music...he thought, but the notes wiped the angry thoughts from his mind. He stared into Shannon’s dark eyes as she coiled one arm about his neck, still playing one-handed.

 

She paused the notes, leaving Jeremy disjointed and confused. “How do we get out?” she whispered, the music still lingering in the air and on her lips. She spread her still usable wing wide. “Lead me and I’ll play again.”

 

Jeremy nodded faintly. “If you’ll play,” he murmured. He wrapped his arms around her and launched himself up with a stroke of his powerful wings. The ceiling gave way before them, a flimsy fort in the middle of the forest, and then they were soaring above trees.

 

Miles away and safe behind a large waterfall, Jeremy set Shannon down and looked at her earnestly. “Play,” he begged.

 

Shannon smiled and clapped her hands twice, placing her flute in its belt-loop.

 

Jeremy blinked and looked about him vaguely. Then his eyes fell upon the flute and his face hardened with dark rage. “You...you bewitched me!” he snarled in anger, his fists clenching at his sides.

 

Shannon’s face went cold and she sat down on a rock. “I did what I had to do for my own survival. Don’t take it personally.”

 

Jeremy’s face twisted with wrath. “You just made me commit treason!” he screamed. “I’m a traitor to my own people!”

 

Shannon shrugged. “Then you won’t have any trouble guiding me out of this forest. The sun doesn’t make sense and my directions are thrown off course.”

 

Jeremy sat down hard, his face pale. “They’ll be hunting both of us.”

 

Shannon’s eyes glittered. “I know.”

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Jeremy sat silent and brooding staring at the water falling before them. Shannon unwrapped her wing and stretched it gently. The bones had mended, but the wing itself was still frail. She flapped it gently, exercising it to help it build its strength. She looked over at Jeremy. “Can you help me?” she asked.

 

The Dawn turned and cast her a distant look. His face looked grey and sickly, and then he stood and took hold of her wing. He stretched it out and helped Shannon tuck it close and then draw it again, massaging and pulling it. Shannon winced and then Jeremy’s hand was dangerously close to her throat. Shannon froze, watching him.

 

The Dawn stared at her with a confused, troubled look. “What have you done?” he whispered. “Are you still hexing me?”

 

Shannon shook her head softly. “That spell has been broken long ago,” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”

 

Jeremy looked out at the water again. “The guards of my people must be hunting then,” he breathed. “I can feel their search crushing down on me and filling me.” He glared at Shannon. “We cannot stay here. Can you fly?”

 

Shannon stood slowly and stretched her wings wide. “I think so.”

 

Jeremy exited the waterfall, Shannon close behind. The Dawn stared up at the sky. “We’ll have to be discreet,” he muttered. “They may not search the skies because of your wings, but there will be guards everywhere. Do you know where your base is?”

 

Shannon nodded. “You wish to go there?”

 

The Dawn snorted. “I’ll be no safer there than anywhere else. But I’ll go with you. You deserve my trouble after what you did.”

 

Jeremy led the way, his wings spread wide to catch the hot air drafts that would carry them north and west. With a rope tied around her waist in case her wings failed, Shannon floated neatly below, wincing with each beat of her wings. The sound of whistling wind in their ears was eerily quieting, and an enemy seemed to hide behind every nimbus and storm cloud. Jeremy spoke not a word, his eyes scanning the horizon.

Every now and then he wheeled in one direction or another, until Shannon could not tell north from south or east from west. The sun rode high in the sky and then dipped low until it became a tiny sliver. Still they flew.

 

Shannon’s wings stopped beating and she tucked them tightly to her body. Jeremy grimaced and gripped the rope tightly in his hands, heaving her higher. He rolled swiftly in the air, coiling the rope about his chest until Shannon was no longer dangling fifty feet below him. Setting his teeth, the White flew on.

 

 

Shannon woke no longer listening to the howl of the wind and the gentle sweep of Jeremy’s wings. The leaves rustled around her head and she sat up, rubbing her eyes. There was no sign of the Dawn.

 

For one frantic moment Shannon wondered if he had abandoned her. Then a crunch in the forest behind her announced his presence, much like their last meeting. Shannon turned and watched as he carried in two rabbits, eyeing her sourly. “Dinner,” he announced, throwing them on the ground. “Do you prefer them medium, or well-done?”

 

The sarcasm in his voice was evident. Shannon frowned, feeling her scalp prickle with rage. “Don’t be snide,” she snapped. “You could have left me in the woods to fend for myself. I’d probably be back at base by now!”

 

Jeremy snorted. “With a broken wing and no sense of direction? Right!”

 

Shannon tossed her hair behind her shoulder, scratching under the rim of her bandana. “I’m high rank in the Night,” she snarled protectively. “I can take care of myself!”

 

Jeremy shook his head and sat down to skin the rabbits. Shannon wrapped her arms around her knees, watching him silently as his knife flashed expertly over the skins. “Where are we?” she asked.

 

“About twenty miles from the range,” was the short reply. “We should be there by tomorrow morning if we leave after dinner.”

 

Shannon shivered and set about poking dry twigs into a pile. Using flint against her flute, she struck a spark and coaxed it into a flame. She caught Jeremy’s infuriated glare at her instrument, and she blew a few notes, her eyes glittering wickedly.

 

Jeremy spat on the ground and cast her another glare. “Some night I’m going to throw that thing into the woods,” he snarled. “If you don’t keep it in your pocket and silent!”

 

Shannon made a face at him and thrust the flute into her belt loop. “You’re just being silly now.”

 

Jeremy chucked a pile of bloody skins at her. “You enchanted me with that thing!” he growled softly. “Be glad I’m helping you at all!”

 

Shannon picked a piece of skin from her hair and eyed it. “If you don’t want to help me,” she muttered, “then leave.”

 

Jeremy paused, his back tight. Shannon watched him keenly, wondering if he would accept the offer to cut ties with her. He sighed and shook his head, eyeing her in turn. “Do you want me to leave?” he whispered. “Unless you had forgotten, which I consider quite unlikely, it’s because of you that I have no home anymore.”

 

Shannon picked up a rabbit and thrust it on a stick. “Help me cook these.”

 

Jeremy cocked his head, listening to the trees. “We have to be careful,” he muttered. “There are eyes in these woods.”

 

“Yes,” a sibilant voice in the trees hissed. “And I think you might have stumbled upon one.”

 

Jeremy leapt to his feet as a man walked from the woods. Shannon shrank back, tucking her wings in tight and putting a hand to her flute. But the man did not seem interested. He sat down on a log and stared at the flames.

 

He was thin and lean, covered in a small layer of dirt as if he frequented the woods often. His wings were mottled white and black and he wore a fox tail lashed to the back of his belt. His face was covered by a white mask, painted with a widely grinning, sharp-toothed mouth. Tiny red swirls accented brow, cheeks, and nose. He pressed the tips of his fingers together and eyed the two before him. “A little jumpy, aren’t you? Are you going to share your dinner with your guest?”

 

Jeremy sat down warily, and Shannon followed, still keeping her hand on her flute. The man eyed the two of them keenly. “You need have no fear of me. I’m not a guard for either side.”

 

Jeremy frowned. “You have no side in this matter?”

 

The man barked with laughter. “No. Where would I fit?” He spread his wings wide and grinned. “Dawn versus Night, light against dark, sun turned from moon...I belong in neither of these. I prefer neither light nor dark, and I am awake at all times. If I sleep, it is when I am tired, not when the sun goes up or down.”

 

Shannon frowned. “What are you talking about? What does that have to do with the war?”

 

The man cocked his head at her in surprise. “You mean you don’t know?” he asked in amazement. Clapping his hands together, he laughed again. “That’s rich! None of you know why you’re fighting!”

 

Jeremy crossed his arms. “Well would you like to tell us?” he asked in a clipped voice. “Exactly why are we fighting?”

 

The man stroked his chin, staring into the fire. “A long time ago, an Aronian of the night skies and one of the day met, through bizarre and random circumstances, and in the end, killed each other. Their argument is neither known nor is it documented, but the fight has been brooding ever since. Thirty years ago, when this bloody war began, something happened that brought the old fight back. Those who ruled the daytime skies joined one side, those who ruled the nocturnal life the other, calling themselves Dawn and Night. Those who are in the middle, neither nocturnal nor day-lit, nor predator, stay hidden and out of sight. Like me for instance. I just sit here and laugh at you all!”

 

Shannon glared at the man. “Who are you?”

 

The man tapped the mask where his nose would be. “Food’s not cooking fast enough. I believe I’ll take my leave. The less you know of me, the less you can tell when one side or the other catches you. And trust me, you’re not welcome anywhere any more. They’re calling one a traitor, the other a deserter.”

 

Shannon’s hands were white as she clenched them into fists. “That’s not true,” she snapped. “Our ship was attacked and I was wounded. And I bewitched Jeremy here. He’s not a traitor!”

 

The man stood and melted into the darkness. “Tell them that when they catch you,” he whispered. Soon all they could hear was the crackling of the flames.

 

Jeremy shook his head as if to clear it. “Come on,” he grunted. “The food is ready.”

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Toran and Conrad walked briskly down a clean hall, their eyes haunted and thoughtful. The loss of the Lieutenant’s sister had hit him hard, and Conrad had been more than a friend. Their motions and duties were half-hearted and listless, and their commanders could do nothing with them.

 

Pattering footsteps down the hall made them turn. A messenger, panting hard, approached them and handed them a slip of paper.

 

Toran opened it and sighed. “Commander Gale wants us,” he muttered. “Wonderful...”

 

Conrad glanced at the messenger through half-closed eyes. “Scat,” he growled. The young boy jumped and ran the other direction.

 

In a few moments Commander Gale’s office door presented itself to them. They were ushered in by a pale-faced soldier, who eyed them warily.

 

Commander Gale was a tall, emaciated man with slightly golden hair cut jaggedly about his head. His face was hawkish and his eyes predatory, his wings huge and golden with black bands. The Commander gestured to two chairs and leaned against his table once they were seated. “We have had news from one of our plants in the Dawn territory. There has been word that an intruder of the Night intelligence was found, and then proceeded to escape with one of their scouts who was enchanted by a flute.”

 

Toran’s hands were white as he gripped the chair arms. “That’s Shannon!” he gasped hoarsely.

 

Gale nodded gravely. “Aye, but it’s unlikely she’ll make it here safely. I want you two to enter the territory and find her! Bring her back before she’s caught again. If it happens that you find her and she is unable to follow you back, you know what to do.”

 

Toran gaped and went as pale as death. “Commander...she’s my own sister...I could never...”

 

The Commander glared at him with steely eyes. “Then Conrad will do it. Either way you know your duty, and she knows hers. This is a war we are fighting. We cannot afford any of our plans to be infiltrated, even if it means that you have to sacrifice some key pieces of the chess-board. Do not fail me!”

 

Conrad and Toran stood, bowed sharply, and exited the room, walking perhaps faster than was protocol. Toran leaned against the wall outside the office. “We have to get her back alive,” he said. “Before anything else happens and the trackers start looking!”

[Kikuyu_Black_Paws]

Eyes in the Wood

 

 

Rain pattered through the trees, creating a dim cacophony of noise. Everything seemed muted and pressed as if by a cloud. Rain slid down hair and clothing and feathers, dripping incessantly. Two pairs of eyes, one green and one black, peered through the downpour and watched the trees.

 

Conrad stirred and moved his gaze upwards to the clouds. “How much longer is this rain going to hold up?” he growled. “It’s as if someone doesn’t want us to find her!”

 

“Quiet,” Toran muttered. He eyed the footprints that were now dim in the mud near the falls. “Those are hers...” he mused to himself. “But whose are those?”

 

Conrad turned back to look at the footprints. “The one she enchanted with her flute I suspect,” he growled. “No Dawn would knowingly help a Night.”

 

Toran spread his wings and shook the water from them. “They’re not here,” he muttered. “We must continue on.”

 

Conrad stood and shook his own feathers clean. “We have no idea where they are,” he sighed. “Where are we supposed to start?”

 

Toran looked up. “In the skies.”

 

The rain was harder clear of the trees. Wind buffeted their wings and lighting flickered above them. Conrad swooped to dodge a spout of hailstones. “This is suicide,” he yelled above the shrieking winds. “We should continue on foot!”

 

“By then they’ll be so far away we won’t ever catch up!” shouted Toran. “Keep moving!”

 

Suddenly Toran pulled up short, his eyes wide. “I bet I know where she is going,” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe I didn’t think about it before!”

 

Conrad’s mouth dropped. “The Cove!” he guessed.

 

Toran grinned and nodded. “We’ll wait for her there. If she needs to hide, that’s where she’ll go.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Shannon sat beneath a makeshift tent and watched the rain. Beside her in the cramped, dry space, Jeremy whittled aimlessly at a piece of wood.

 

Shannon turned to him. “May I play?” she asked, a wry smile twisting her features.

 

Jeremy glared at her flute. “Does it enchant upon your command?”

 

Shannon pulled it out. “It does many things. It only does what I want it to do.”

 

Jeremy turned back to his wood and grunted.

 

Shannon smiled and put the instrument to her lips. At first cool music washed through the clearing, pretty, but lacking that enchanting, pulling tone. Then...something happened.

 

Jeremy looked up slowly and stared, his eyes wide. The rain now fell as if working its way through jelly. The glittering drops hung suspended in the air, slowly, ever so slowly dripping towards the ground. Jeremy reached out and dashed his hand among them. They split and floated outwards at a downward slant, still slow.

 

Jeremy turned and stared at Shannon. “What are you doing now?”

 

The young woman smiled and lowered her flute. The rain sped up and crashed onto the ground, the sound of dripping filling the air again. “The flute can do many things. But its tone is so beautiful that it can even enchant the rain when played with mediocrity.”

 

Jeremy shifted and scratched his shoulder. “You shouldn’t play anymore,” he growled.

 

Shannon stiffened. “And why not?”

 

Jeremy looked up at the sky. “We’re being followed. I felt it this morning.”

 

Shannon stared at him. “And you told me nothing?”

 

“I don’t have to tell you every little thing!” he snapped. “I’m not accountable to you!”

 

Shannon’s eyes glittered. “We’re in this together,” she said quietly, “whether you like me or not. And if someone is following us, I’d like to know!”

 

Jeremy watched her silently. “There are two of them. I haven’t seen them yet. But they’re gaining on us. If we don’t find some place to hide out soon, they’ll catch us.”

 

Shannon eyed the woods around her. “How far do these woods stretch?”

 

Jeremy shrugged. “Until the range. Why?”

 

Shannon nodded absently to herself. “I know a good hiding place.”

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Commander Gale watched the radar screen keenly. A younger man, Colonel Key, watched him curiously.

 

Gale smiled and ran a finger along his lips. “Have them activate one Lieutenant Toran’s radar chip,” he commanded smoothly.

 

Key raised his eyebrows. “Sir, how will they find the girl?” he questioned. “That forest is more of a jungle than a wood.”

 

Gale smiled again. “He’s her brother. He’ll find her.”

 

The Colonel grimaced. “But, sir, why send him of all people. We have much better trackers.”

 

Gale turned away from the screen. “She is traveling with a Dawn, yes?” At Key’s nod, Gale’s grin stretched. “I want him to find his sister. And then, when he brings her back here, he’ll bring the Dawn with him. We’ll have a weapon we couldn’t possibly dream of before. If I had sent trackers, they would scare the Dawn, and possibly the girl, away and we’d never find them. No...I want this Dawn. Alive.”

 

Key swallowed and saluted. “Yes sir,” he said. “I’ll see to it their progress is monitored.”

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Shannon stepped between the vine branches and smiled. A large lake stretched far to her left. She had never seen the other side. A lovely little hut that Toran had built for her when she was younger, before their involvement in the war, sat at the lake’s shores.

 

Jeremy pushed through the vines behind her and surveyed the area. “No one else knows of this?” he asked.

 

Shannon shook her head. “No one but my brother and my best friend.”

 

Jeremy grunted and looked around. “Well, it is cozy enough.”

 

Shannon led the way towards the hut. She opened the door and froze.

 

Jeremy peered over her shoulder. “I’m assuming you know them?” he growled.

 

Shannon leapt forward into Toran’s embrace. “You knew I’d come here!” she cried out.

 

Conrad stood over a pan of scrambled eggs at the stove. “Yes, I know, I’m just the cook here. No need for any greeting.”

 

As Shannon rushed over to give him a hug, Toran stood and eyed Jeremy up and down. “You’re the White they mentioned,” he said.

 

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. “‘They’? Who exactly is ‘they’?”

 

Toran shrugged. “Base headquarters wanted us to fetch my sister. Her escape is known of, and your dealings in it. Despite the fact that you did so against your own will.”

 

Shannon glanced over at Toran. “He found me after the explosion,” she said earnestly. “I had a broken wing and he splinted it.”

 

Toran eyed the Dawn again, who stared expressionlessly back at him. “Well,” he muttered. “You did take care of my sister in need, despite the fact she is a Night warrior.” Toran stuck out his hand. “So for the time being, I’ll overlook the fact that you’re White.”

 

Jeremy eyed Toran’s hand nervously, and then took it and shook. Shannon grinned. “That’s good,” she said. “I didn’t want to have to enchant you to like each other.”

 

Jeremy glared at Shannon and retreated to the back of the room. Conrad gave the eggs another half-hearted stir. “So...tell us what’s up.”

 

Shannon shrugged. “They didn’t get anything from me,” she said with obvious relief. “You can thank Jeremy there for it again. At the time I couldn’t fly, and enchanted or no, he’s helped me from the beginning.”

 

Toran rubbed his chin, his eyes thoughtful. “Are we taking him back to base?”

 

The silence in the air hung heavy. Shannon glanced at Jeremy. Conrad glanced at Shannon. Jeremy stared steadily forward at Shannon, awaiting the announcement of his fate.

 

Shannon thrust her chin forward. “He’ll do what he wants,” she said firmly. “He’ll tell you that himself.”

 

Toran shrugged and turned to Jeremy. “Well, are you going to keep up with us, or return to your own kind?”

 

Jeremy shivered slightly. “I do not know if my people would welcome me back. I committed treason.”

 

Conrad cocked his head. “Shannon used her flute though. In normal circumstances, you would have done what any White soldier would have.”

 

Jeremy looked away. “That’s the thing. I’m not sure I would have.”

 

Again silence filled the air. Toran looked tense. “How do you mean?” he asked stiffly.

 

Jeremy shrugged. “Interrogation methods can be harsh. I’ve seen it done and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy’s dog. I certainly didn’t want to have to watch Shannon interrogated, especially when she had sworn so hard against it. I think it truly would kill her. If worse had come to worse, I would have freed her.”

 

Toran stared at the Dawn and shot a swift glance Shannon’s way. The surprise on her face revealed that even she had not picked up this turn of events. Not surprising, Toran thought in amusement. She took it into her hands before he could act. Toran turned to Jeremy. “Again I am thankful that you were there,” he said. “Had Shannon still been in their grasp when I found them...” he trailed off, casting Shannon a glance. “Well, I would not have been able to carry out my own orders.”

 

Shannon smiled faintly. “I would never expect you to,” she said. She glanced at Jeremy. “So you will join us?”

 

Jeremy hesitated, staring at the emblem of Dawn on his jacket sleeve. Biting his lip until it bled, he nodded slowly.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Commander Gale sat easily in a large chair at the head of the conference table. The room was dim and only one shadow filled a chair down the right side. The slight flashing of a twirling knife flickered at the Commander’s gaze and irritated him, but he kept his annoyance at bay.

 

The shadows stretched long legs up onto the table and turned wide, vibrant red eyes to the Commander. Light from the dipping sun washed across his face. Gaunt skin that looked as if he had been shoving arsenic down his throat glittered strangely in the sun, and strands of his hair was pulled into two low locks, one dangling beside his right eye, rimmed in violet paint, the other at the back of his head. The rest of his hair was cut just below his jaw-line, glittering in obsidian sheen. A violet slash of ink cut along his left cheek, accenting his high cheekbones and noble features. Huge dark wings of pure darkness curved along his back and he twirled his knife easily along his fingers. “Well what is it you wanted?” his deep rasping voice questioned.

 

Gale swallowed slightly and leaned forward, gazing into a glass of amber alcohol. He drained it with one swallow. “If the two should fail in their quest for the girl, they all must be eliminated. I can trust the Raven to take care of this?”

 

The knife flashing in the darkness stopped and the Commander winced as the shadow pierced his own finger with the keen blade, licking the blood from the tip. “It will be a pleasure,” he said softly. “The Raven has been hungry for a long time.”

 

Gale leaned back, unease stirring in his chest. “Only if they fail now. I don’t want you killing them all before they have a chance to return. And bring the Dawn to me.”

 

The Raven gave him a stare that said nothing before he stood, towering very well above six feet and rail thin. His long black coat drifted about his frame and he shoved his fingers in his pockets, sheathing his knife so quickly that at first Gale didn’t know where it had gone. Silently, as a shadow, the Raven slipped from the room.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

It was raining again. The four new acquaintances stayed deep inside the hut, a small fire lighting the windows with gold. On a tree outside, watching with a scarlet gaze, hovered the Raven. His hair fell dripping into his eyes and his many knives glittered in the faint moonlight. “Tick tock tick tock,” he muttered. “Just you wait, my knife will drop...”

[Kikuyu_Black_Paws]

The Raven and the Eagle

 

 

Shannon found Jeremy sitting in a corner, his knees drawn up to his forehead. His eyes glittered in the dark as she approached, but he made no other notice of her. Shannon sat beside him and rested her head against the wall. “You feel guilty,” she said.

 

Jeremy stirred gently. “Not really. But I was wondering, about what the hermit in the forest said. What really did start this war? Why are we fighting? Is it that bad that we had to divide our species into three pieces?”

 

Shannon shrugged. “I was born a Black. I never questioned that the White were evil. I haven’t been able to shake the idea that we are all fools either.”

 

A yell and a clatter from the other room made both of them jump. The fluent swearing that followed made Shannon’s eyes widened. “He’s learned some new ones since I last saw him,” she muttered. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

 

Jeremy made a face. “Is he still cooking?”

 

Shannon chewed on a nail. “It’s what he does when he’s worried. If he doesn’t have a pan when he’s worried, he throws things.” With a decided look upon her face, Shannon stood and moved into the kitchen. Jeremy sighed and followed.

 

Shannon sat on a stool and took out her flute. Jeremy flinched but sat near the window. He looked out into the rain.

 

Beautiful, soothing music drifted through the hut. Conrad, standing nearby shoving rice around a pot, slowed and cocked his head to listen. Toran’s muscles visibly relaxed from where he lay on a bench, one arm thrown across his eyes. He peeked from beneath his elbow at Jeremy, watching him keenly. But even Jeremy seemed to be enjoying himself, despite his past experience with the flute.

 

For a moment, everything seemed alright.

 

 

Conrad clattered pots and pans full of food onto the table until it was sagging. Jeremy inched forward, his eyes wide as he looked at the copious amounts of food. He drooled as he inhaled heavenly aromas and thought he might just die and go straight to Paradise with a smile on his face.

 

Conrad gestured to the food, his half-closed eyes glittering with frustration. “All I could whip up with so few resources.” He glared at Shannon. “Someone didn’t keep their hut stocked!”

 

Jeremy stared astonished at the huge pots of fried rice and stirred veggies dipped in sweet and sour sauce. A strange, white meat that seemed ready to drip off the bone covered in a scarlet glaze sat in platters, onions and curly pieces of beef garnishing it along the sides. Huge pitchers of tea were crammed among the corners and rolls of bread and stringy vegetables were placed wherever room was available. Nearby a huge cake made the air shimmer with heat. Jeremy sat down heavily with astonishment and Shannon sat next to him with a smile. The Dawn turned shocked eyes upon her. “This is what he does when he’s nervous?” he said.

 

Shannon grinned, picking up a fork. “Eat,” she insisted.

 

Jeremy stared as the other three filled their plates and began to wolf at their food. When they realized their guest was not partaking in the bounty, their forks slowed and they paused. “Why aren’t you eating?” asked Conrad.

 

Jeremy picked up the fork. “I’ve never used a fork before,” he admitted.

 

Toran’s eyes widened. “What do you Dawn use? Your hands?”

 

Jeremy blushed. “Sometimes,” he said. “But most of the time we use kahtchi.”

 

Shannon blinked. “Ca-what?”

 

Jeremy looked around the hut helplessly. “It’s a kind of...well...it’s a sort of a grabby-thingy, like chopsticks...but...” he shrugged.

 

Shannon grinned. “Well, try! We aren’t going to laugh at you.”

 

Toran, through a mouthful of food, said “Much.”

 

Jeremy picked up the fork and stabbed at his plateful of food. A piece of chicken stayed with the prongs and he lifted it to his mouth hesitantly. All three eyes were on him. He paused at their gaze, startled. “Do you have to stare at me?” The chicken plopped off of his fork with a magnanimous squish.

 

For a moment the Night seemed trying hard not to choke. Then they burst out laughing, pounding on what pieces of table they could reach. Jeremy blushed and ducked his head. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll just use my hands.” He picked up a scoopful of rice with deft fingers and popped it into his mouth cleanly. It was delicious.

 

The remnants of the meal lay on the table, and the four companions lay in a stupor about the hut’s kitchen, stomachs bulging. Conrad, already usually sleepy in manner, was nearly unconscious. From where he lay, he flopped an arm in the other three’s direction. “I cooked you clean,” he mumbled in one sentence.

 

Almost at exactly the same time the other three groaned. “You cooked you clean,” Shannon muttered.

 

“It’s your hut!” Conrad whined.

 

“They’re your pots,” Toran grumped.

 

“I’m...so...full! I...can’t...breathe!” Jeremy wheezed.

 

“Fine,” Conrad mumbled. “We’ll...just sleep it off...”

 

With a groan Shannon heaved herself up and pulled out her flute again. She began a small, soothing ditty that made the air heavy and even more sleepy. The fullness of their stomachs subsided. They lay, staring up at the cobwebs of the ceiling, listening to the song.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

The Raven was bored. He didn’t like to wait. The rain was subsiding; it would be perfect weather for killing soon. His knives were thirsty, and he was hungry. Why should he wait? He owed nothing to Gale and he had no liking for the little trio down there. The White he would spare...just barely.

 

With a little hop the Raven swept from his perch and landed outside the door. Without knocking, he opened it and entered.

 

They were all nestled in the kitchen, convenient for him, unlucky for them. The music the girl had been playing drifted off on a discordant chord of surprise. Four pairs of shocked eyes stared at him. The Raven swept them all with his scarlet gaze and sniffed. He tapped his nose. “You all give off a very unique smell,” he hissed. “Naughty of you not to wash behind your ears.”

 

Toran stood, tense. “Raven,” he said cautiously. “What are you doing here? As you can see we found Shannon and-“

 

The Raven cut him off coldly. “Yes, I can see. But can you see? Gale has neither need nor any wish of your ‘talent’ any more. He has ordered me to dispose of you and,” his eyes turned to Jeremy at the window, “retrieve the Dawn.”

 

Shannon leapt to her feet, flute in hand. She began to play a different tune entirely. Short, violent keys slithered up and down scales, darting out here and there. Light began to splinter from her skin in a scarlet and violet pattern. Her eyes were narrowed with concentration.

 

The Raven watched her in mild interest, his neatly sculpted eyebrows lifted if only slightly.

 

Then the earth began to tremble around them. Stones lifted of their own accord. Jeremy leapt from his stool, knocking it back as the rain outside stopped and began to float upwards again. Raw energy pulsed in the air and poured from the flute in music form.

 

The Raven seemed unaffected. He smirked and turned towards Jeremy.

 

Conrad and Toran’s wings spread wide. They both screamed battle cries, hurling themselves at the assassin.

 

His knives came out in flashes of silver, spinning so quickly that they were blurs of light. Two dirks leapt to Toran’s hands, while Conrad pulled a compact rod from his pouch. It spread into a long staff, which he gave an expert twirl.

 

Shannon played on, her own wings spreading and casting dark black light around her body. The light lifted and drifted over to Jeremy, covering him and surrounding him with a barrier of black light. Jeremy held very still, swallowing hard as the music buzzed around him.

 

The Raven dealt blows and blocked hits with ease, seemingly bored with the fight and lazily taking on the two warriors. With a punch of the heel of his hand he sent Toran flying, and he stabbed a knife through Conrad’s ribs with the other. Toran screamed, coughing up blood, as Conrad collapsed to the ground.

 

Shannon’s eyes widened; the Raven turned towards her, his mouth curling into a tiny smile. With a flash of his black wings he disappeared from view.

 

Shannon whirled, still playing, and she backed slowly towards the wall to keep her back covered. The Raven dropped from his position hanging on the ceiling and landed on top of her, sending her flute clattering away. She cried out as her shoulder hit the ground with a strange snap and the black light around Jeremy disappeared.

 

Jeremy spread his wings, preparing to fly and draw the assassin away from his wounded friends, but a knife flew through the air, pinning his wing to the wall behind him. He screamed in agony as another knife whistled through the air and pierced through his other wing.

 

The Raven sauntered forward, eyeing him. “You look like a Dawn,” he sneered. “All day-lit and noble.”

 

Jeremy tried to pull his wings free, but they were pinned fast. He tried to think of something clever to say, but fear and rage wormed its way through his teeth and held his tongue tight. The Raven smirked at him, shrugging the rain still dewed upon his cloak onto the floor. He unpinned one of Jeremy’s wings and shoved his face against the wall. Jeremy’s wrists were pulled behind him and bound with strong twine. Then the second knife was pulled free. Jeremy growled with pain as the Raven tied his wings useless and then shoved him from the hut. The lamp flickered in the wind of the open door and then sputtered out, leaving the three Night on the ground, unmoving.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Shannon didn’t know what time it was when she was stirred. At first she thought she was back in the forest with Jeremy as gentle hands turned her. The same burning pain was there, except this time it was located in her upper shoulder. But no, she thought drowsily, then it was my wing, and we were outdoors. Shannon opened her eyes.

 

Toran looked down at her, his face dirt and tear streaked. Blood was smudged along his jaw and he was bare-chested except for a long linen bandage about his ribs. He smiled weakly when he saw her eyes open. “Awake already sunshine?” he whispered. “How are you feeling?”

 

Tears began to leek hotly down Shannon’s face from the pain. “I think my collar bone is broken,” she whimpered.

 

Toran handed her a wad of rag. Shannon sniffed it and then inhaled deeply. The sleep gas Jeremy had first given her was not anything like Toran’s own mix of lavender, vanilla, and other herbs that made her sleepy. He had made it especially for her as a baby, when she had trouble sleeping since the death of their parents. It worked like a charm. Already she felt drowsy and the pain subsided.

 

Toran’s fingers brushed her collar bone gently. “It isn’t a bad break,” he said. “It will heal in a matter of days.” Helping her sit, he formed a sling for her and gently rubbed avian bone-balm over her shoulder.

 

Shannon was half asleep when she remembered. “Conrad?”

 

Toran swallowed. “He...he was hurt pretty bad. He didn’t make it through the night.”

 

It took a few moments for the news to sink in. Shannon had known Conrad since she was born. He had helped care for her as a baby when she and Toran had suddenly become orphans.

 

Now he was gone...all gone.

 

New tears of pain washed Shannon’s face and she bowed her head. Toran sat next to her heavily, a hand against his eyes to keep the tears at bay. “I buried him,” he whispered hoarsely. “Near the lake where the sky is clear and the cat-tails bloom; I think he would have liked that.”

 

Shannon’s throat was painful with stored tears. “And Jeremy?” she whispered, knowing the answer.

 

“No sign of him. There’s blood on the walls and twine on the floor. Raven must have gotten him.”

 

Shannon shuddered with sobs. “What do we do now?” she whispered.

 

Toran’s eyes glittered with rage as he stared up at the pre-dawn sky. “We say our final goodbyes to Conrad in the morning. Then if you can travel, we go after Jeremy. When we catch him we’ll go find a place where they won’t bother us anymore, maybe with the hermit you told me about. I’m sick of this war, and I’m sick of fighting. The Dawn betrayed us. I don’t stick with traitors.”

 

Shannon’s eyes dried and she stared resolutely forward. Somewhere in her, something else had shifted, snapping within her like the bone in her shoulder. She had lost her parents, her freedom, and now her best friend to this war. She was about to lose her newest friend, and if they had their way, she would lose her brother and her life.

 

Things were going to change; they were going to change very, very fast.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

At first Jeremy was only concerned with staying on his feet. The Raven was no slow traveler and the night was slippery with rain. Branches whipped across his face and chest, leaving bloody, painful welts, but the branches seemed to press away from the Raven, as if they abstained from coming near him. His wings bled freely in the moist air, leaving a neat trail of blood. He was beginning to feel weak and faint, despite the huge meal he had eaten earlier. Even though it weighed heavily on his stomach, he refused to regret eating it.

 

A jerk on the leash that attached him to Raven yanked him to a halt. The Raven had his nose in the air, his eyes narrowed as he sniffed the faint breeze.

 

Jeremy didn’t think, he just ran. He started off so violently that the leash was yanked from the Raven’s grasp. Jeremy darted into the trees, weaving and moving hard. He could get up and fly here, he would have to find a clearing, get into the air and...

 

A fist swung out of nowhere and slammed into his stomach. Air and the meal he had consumed earlier fled from his body under the harsh contact. The Raven sneered at him and threw him on the ground. “You think you could have escaped had you gotten into the air?” he asked contemptuously. “Think again. There is nothing that can flee from the Raven. It has never happened. It never will.”

 

Jeremy staggered to his feet. He was in pain, but he felt wide awake. The heaviness of the meal was now gone...all over the forest floor of course, but he felt he could run faster, farther now. Despite the pain, he aimed to try again. He would not give up.

 

The Raven looked amused, his scarlet eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “My brethren are awake at this hour,” he hissed. They can smell your blood. They’re crying out to me to spill it, to provide them a meal.” He cocked his head. “Do you think I should?”

 

Jeremy stared levelly at the assassin. “Do whatever you think your master would approve of.”

 

The Raven grinned. “Oh, I’ve already gone past that. You see, my master only wanted your good friends dead if they failed. A pity I was bored: they might have lived longer had he not sent me. And now he wants you. To what end, I wonder?”

 

Jeremy shivered as the Raven’s laughter sent cold chills down his spines. He told himself that the three who had taken him in were not dead. He had to believe that. A glance at the trees showed him the bright flashing eyes of ravens, watching silently. An owl hooted not too far away. A second owl answered. Jeremy thought he could hear the special throat deepness that distinguished the real sound from the code. “Do you have more friends out here?” the Dawn asked.

 

The Raven grinned, but said not a word.

 

 

Jeremy ran again. The trees whipped past his face, slapping him and tearing at his clothing. He heard a strange cackling behind him, a whoosh of air as wings beat to lift a body.

 

A clearing presented itself. With a grin of elation Jeremy opened his wings and surged upwards, stretching for the stars and his freedom.

 

The Raven blew in out of nowhere, his huge wings blacker than the sky and blotting out the stars. His eyes glowed eerily out of his shadowed face as he grabbed Jeremy by the shoulder.

 

Jeremy yanked against him, beating his wings powerfully. Suddenly noise erupted from the trees. Ravens and crows of all sizes burst like dry leaves before a tempest from the trees and swirled madly around them. Under their fierce attack, Jeremy could not gain any air, and he was bore down by Ravens.

 

The Raven’s eyes were glittering madly. “Flying, eh?” he said. “We can fix that.”

 

Ravens pinned Jeremy to the ground. He felt the assassin yanking on his wing, feeling for the tip. Seconds before it happened he knew what he was going to do. The Raven gave a huge yank, and then searing pain tore up Jeremy’s wing to his shoulder. He screamed, tears of pain and horror streaming down his cheeks. Chuckling, the Raven stood, holding a huge russet pinion feather. “Pretty,” he said, stroking it down his cheek. He stepped over Jeremy and knelt on his other side.

 

Jeremy struggled. With one pinion feather he had a chance of flying again, by reconstructing the lost pinion from the remaining. But without it his chances were slim at best, none at worst.

 

The Raven caught his wing in strong hands. Jeremy could not pull away. The Raven stroked the feathers, his eyes fixed on Jeremy’s face. He was enjoying the young man’s torture, enjoying it with an inhuman pleasure. He counted down the feathers, chanting in a sing-song voice. “One, two, three, four...” He placed his fingers around the last, largest feather. “Fiiiiive...” He pulled.

 

Jeremy screamed again, the noise carrying over the trees. The ravens scattered, cawing and shrieking loudly.

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Shannon jerked awake, her eyes wide. A scream echoed through the trees. Birds hooted and chirped in protest, half-asleep, and then went back to bed. The stars twinkled merrily down at her. Shannon rolled over, wincing as she moved her shoulder. She shook Toran, curled up in his own blanket. “Wake up!”

 

Toran, as was their way since their parents had died, woke silently and completely, his eyes snapping open to fix on Shannon’s face. After a tense moment analyzing their situation, he sat up. “What is it?”

 

“I heard a scream,” Shannon whispered. “I think it was Jeremy.”

 

Toran looked her in the eyes. “Are you absolutely sure? No dreams?”

 

Shannon shook her head. “I heard the dream after I had woken up. Something else woke me...”

 

Toran stood, wrapping his blanket up and stowing it in a small pouch. He pulled out his two long guns and checked them before shoving them back into their pouches. “Let’s go then.”

[Kikuyu_Black_Paws]

In the Eyes of a Cat

 

 

Toran walked steadily before Shannon, his hair sleep mussed. The stress of the past few days and lack of sleep was clearly wearing on him. A silvery form dropped from the trees into their path, hanging upside-down on a vine, watching them curiously. Toran did not see it until he was almost nose to nose with it. He fell back with a cry of surprise.

 

Moonlight pierced through the clouds and illumined the specter. It was a man dressed in a gentleman’s clothing, a long bottle-brush tail flicking back and forth. His spiked hair was smooth and gingery, falling above his head to almost conceal two furry ears. He wore a mask over his face, a widely grinning, sharp-toothed mask that was definitely ‘cattish’. The muscles in his arms and throat stood out against his skin. “Where hence, flying friend?” he purred, eyes hidden behind the cheerily winking eye-holes. “On such an auspicious night, do you chase after fool’s gold, or a treasure trove?”

 

Toran blinked sleepily. “I-” he began.

 

The cat man let go of the vine and flipped to his feet, landing easily. “Ah!” he exclaimed. “North is it?” he pointed. “Or south?” His other hand crossed over his arm and twisted about. “I do believe you cannot go both ways, or can you? Perhaps if one leg walked north and the other south, I believe you could do it. But it would be very difficult indeed.”

 

Shannon had her hand on her flute. Jeremy’s scream had her wide awake and worried, and this delay was not putting her in the best of moods. “You’re crazy,” she hissed. “Stand aside so we may pass!”

 

The cat man turned to her, his head cocking wildly. “In a hurry, are we?” he simpered. “Well then let me not stand in your way.” He stepped aside with a flourish, watching them as Shannon grabbed Toran by the wrist and dragged him along. Without a sound he followed them.

 

Shannon broke into a trot, her eyes wide and searching. Trees whipped past her, sky dipped in and out of sight. Toran tried to keep up, his wings tucked tightly against his back. “Shannon!” he protested. “Slow down!”

 

The scream kept echoing through her head, and instead of slowing down, she sped up. She began to pant with horror, eyes wide. The trees split before them and a clearing presented itself. Shannon stumbled to a stop in horror.

 

Jeremy was lying on the ground, his wings spread wide and bleeding. Standing over him with one foot pressed against the Dawn’s chest was Raven, holding two large russet pinions in his hands. Ravens cawed all around, almost laughing with their dry leaf cackles.

 

Shannon screamed and charged forward, but a streak of ginger lightning beat her. Raven turned, surprise flitting across his face as the masked hunter toppled him. The two went rolling across the ground, Raven swearing, the cat-man spitting and yowling. Long claws raked down the Raven’s chest and face, teeth found his throat. Wings buffeted and knives slashed, feet kicked, dust and blood flew in the air. Shannon leaned over Jeremy while Toran watched the fight with horror and fascination.

 

The dust settled, the cat-man sitting atop Raven’s chest, claws deep in his arms as he kept them pinned on the ground. Raven stared calmly at the attacker, blood pouring from arms, face, and chest. He licked at blood on his lip and grinned, his crimson eyes flashing. “Cat, eh?” he panted. “Kill me then. You seem to have bested the Raven.”

 

The cat-man cocked his head, his mask spattered with blood, his own and the Raven’s, still grinning wildly. “Seem?” he hissed.

 

Suddenly the Raven heaved upwards with his entire body, dislodging the cat. One snap of his wing sent the man flying. He flipped and landed on all fours, tail lashing. A glint of golden light sparked from the eye-slots and he charged forward.

 

A bang stopped him short. Raven jerked, his face going pale as a large hole appeared in his chest with a splat of blood. Giving Toran an odd look, the Raven toppled and fell to the ground, pawing at his wound, and then lay still.

 

Jeremy opened his eyes and smiled at Shannon. “My...feathers...” he whispered.

 

Toran pocketed his still smoking gun and walked calmly to the Raven, picking up the feathers that had been dropped. Shannon smiled down at Jeremy. “We have them Jeremy, it’s ok. You’ll fly again, I promise!”

 

The cat-man stood, giving Jeremy a hidden look. “He was mine,” he hissed.

 

Toran shrugged. “He was nobody’s. Up for grabs, a murderer, filth. It didn’t matter who killed him. Why did you come anyway?”

 

The cat-man bowed and took off his mask, revealing a fair skinned man with large golden eyes and a wide mouth that seemed prone to smiling. The faint markings of whiskers stretched across his cheeks and he stuck his tongue out, his long hair falling around his shoulders. “Osmodius, at your service,” he purred. “I’m a protector of these woods, and a general Trickster. When the good are in need of service, I provide it. When they are in need of directions...well, that’s another matter entirely.”

 

Shannon looked up at the cat-man. “Osmodius.”

 

“Yes, my dear lady?”

 

“Can you take us out of these woods? The only one who can fly is Toran, and not for very long. We’re all weak and hurt; walking is the only way. Can you guide us truly?”

 

Osmodius stared at Shannon for a long time, taking in her smudged, tear-stained face and her heavily bruised shoulder. He looked at Jeremy lying on the ground, beaten and bleeding, a gap at the tip of each wing where a long feather should be. Finally he turned to Toran, looking at his slumped shoulders and dejected, grief strained face. Looking back at Shannon, he eyed her solemnly. “You all have been through much loss, I think. A good turn would not hurt. I will lead you to the edge.”

 

Shannon smiled, wiping tears away. She didn’t know when she had gotten this soft. Maybe it was since Conrad had...

 

She dashed away her thoughts, standing and helping Jeremy to his feet. The Dawn held out his hand to Toran, who placed the long feathers in his hand. Jeremy tucked them into his shirt, close against his skin. “Where should we go?” he whispered.

 

Osmodius smiled. “I know a place where you can stay and rest. They even have a wing-grafter there. It’s away from Dawn and Night, for us who care nothing for their war. You’ll be safe there.”

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Osmodius led them through the woods silently, leaving Raven’s body to be picked at by the birds he had once commanded so haughtily. Jeremy stayed silent, his face drawn and pale, leaning on Shannon’s good shoulder. Toran helped him along on the other side, keeping his eyes ahead so that he would not have to think of anything other than placing one foot in front of the other.

 

Dawn was approaching when the cat-man pushed aside a bush and revealed a tall white hospital stationed between the trees, nearly four stories tall and stretching back into the woods. “Here we are,” he said pleasantly. “Come come, they should have breakfast started.”

 

Osmodius pushed open the doors jauntily and grinned, spinning his mask on one finger. “Got some new ones for you, Dolores!” he called.

 

A woman with vibrant green eyes and black cat-ears peeked out from a closet, frowning. “What now?”

 

Osmodius bowed low. “Dolores my friend, new customers if that’s the way you want to say it. They are in need of some assistance.”

 

The cat-woman named Dolores stepped out of the closet and walked up to them, clucking her tongue with eyes narrowed. “What a mess,” she hissed. “What bull did you get on the wrong side of?”

 

Osmodius gestured to the two Night and single Dawn. “Squeezed beneath the two angry bovine Dawn and Night, I’m afraid. Can you patch them up? That one needs wing grafts on both sides, and I do believe the young lady has a broken collar bone. Can breakfast and rooms be arranged, possibly next to each other or attached?”

 

Dolores waved a hand at the cat-man. “Yes yes, I wasn’t born yesterday. Come along you three, we’ll get baths and medical care for you all.”

 

Shannon turned to Osmodius, smiling weakly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

 

He shrugged. “My job, m’lady. Don’t think another thing about it. Off you go!”

 

 

* * * *

 

 

Shannon sat on the medical table limply as a nurse rubbed joint cream into her shoulder gently. She stared blankly forward, her now clean hair pulled back into a neat braid. Meaningless thoughts poured through her mind: the image of her parents, smiling at her; her brother, shooting at targets while tears streamed down his face and blurred his eyes, still getting a bull’s-eye at every shot, just after their parents had been killed; Conrad helping her walk when she hurt her ankle, teaching her to fly; the two being sent on missions and leaving her alone and worried; the day she was finally allowed to go and proved herself to all of Night that she was a worthy opponent with her flute...they went on and one like a never ending recorder.

 

The nurse touched her cheek gently and she snapped out of her stupor and looked at her. “Here, miss,” she said softly. “Put your sling back on.”

 

Numbly Shannon complied, then slipped off of the table and let herself be led into a wide suite where Toran was lying on a long bed, washed and newly dressed himself. His hair was even combed. His arms were behind his head and he lay staring up at the ceiling. A table with food stood untouched nearby and Shannon settled herself beside Toran. “Where’s Jeremy?” she asked.

 

“Still in surgery,” was the calm answer. “Eat something.”

 

“Not hungry,” Shannon said softly.

 

“Ridiculous,” Toran retorted halfheartedly. “You haven’t eaten since we left the house; that’s nearly 36 hours ago. You need to eat.”

 

Shannon turned bleary eyes at her brother. “Then you eat.”

 

Toran’s mouth closed with a snap and he grumbled up at the ceiling. “Well, if you’re not hungry then fine...we’ll eat when Jeremy gets back.”

 

Osmodius appeared in the doorway, newly dressed in a gentleman’s clothing. “Tut tut,” he muttered. “All clean and pretty and you haven’t touched the food. Worried about your friend, or have you just lost the will to live?”

 

Shannon shrugged, wincing. “Nothing seems worth anything anymore.”

 

Osmodius sat beside them, picking a piece of lint from his immaculate black jacket. “Your friend is alive and will recover. He will fly again. Your shoulder will heal and you will all be safe here. Neither Dawn nor Night can touch you. What isn’t worth living?”

 

Shannon stared out the window, not seeing the trees. “Conrad is dead,” she muttered to no one. “He’s not coming back, and neither are my parents. The only home I ever knew betrayed me and tried to kill everyone I loved. The only home I could have turned to wants us dead because of what we are or wants us alive because of what we know. I don’t want to live a fugitive all my life. I’m tired of running.”

 

Osmodius watched her silently. “This Conrad of yours, is he at peace now?”

 

Shannon turned to stare at the cat-man. Osmodius lay a hand on her shoulder kindly. “Sometimes the bad can be hard,” he said gently. “But you must pull through. Everything happens with cause.”

 

A nurse arrived at the door. “Um,” she said, nervous at interrupting the gentleman. “Your friend just got out of surgery. They’ll be bringing him here shortly.” She hurried out under Osmodius’ keen gaze. The cat-man turned to Shannon with a cheerful smile. “You see,” he said. “There are still things worth living for.”

 

Osmodius sat with them, whistling to himself, until Jeremy was carried into the room by a very tall cat-man in a white jacket. Compared to the doctor’s thick muscles and filled body, Jeremy looked skeletal and emaciated. The doctor lowered Jeremy onto a couch, spreading his wings out gently.

 

Jeremy blinked woozily up at Shannon and smiled. “Hey there,” he whispered.

 

Osmodius stood and brushed off his clothing. “I will return at your evening meal. For now, I must confine you to this room. Tomorrow perhaps I will find you well enough to walk about. Good day for now!” He tipped his brow to them and exited the room.

 

Jeremy’s eyes flickered, and he looked down at the tip of one wing. There a great tawny feather filled the one-time gap. He smiled faintly. Toran nodded to the half-conscious Dawn. “You will fly again,” he said simply.

 

Jeremy nodded, closing his eyes and falling asleep.

 

Shannon stood and moved to a window, her eyes vacant as she stared out at the trees beyond. “What now?”

 

Toran gazed down at Jeremy’s sleeping features for a second. “Fight.”

 

Shannon blinked and looked over at him, her eyes wide. “I though you said...”

 

“Forget what I said,” her brother said calmly. “Yes, I’m tired of fighting. But Night did something to us I can’t forgive. Because of them, Conrad is gone. That makes me a little...crazy.”

 

“Then what do you propose we do?”

 

Toran joined her at the window, brother and sister staring out at the setting sun. “We get to base. And then we use our Night heritage to our keen advantage.”

 

The sun was just dipping below the horizon when Jeremy woke and Osmodius made his appearance. Toran told the cat-man their need to reach Night base.

 

Osmodius watched him carefully throughout his explanation. Jeremy’s wings rustled gently in the background and Shannon sat on the floor, picking at a bunch of grapes.

 

The cat-man turned to look out the window, his golden eyes glittering. “Perhaps it is time to put an end to this war,” he hissed. “I will lead you to the Night base, and then, if circumstances permit, I will help you in your infiltration.”

 

Toran grinned and gripped Osmodius’ hand gratefully. His wings spread wide in barely contained gleeful wrath. “When can we leave?”

 

Osmodius glanced at Jeremy. The Dawn nodded, his face pale and drawn, but his eyes glittering fiercely. “Tonight, if possible,” the cat-man said.

 

Shannon stood and placed a hand on her flute, running a finger beneath her bandanna. Suddenly her eyes were very serious. “Let’s go then.”

[Kikuyu_Black_Paws]

I guess it's about time I finished this thing, isn't it? Sheesh I'm slow.

 

 

Under Cover of Night

 

Osmodius sat in a tree branch, his tail lashing back and forth. Behind him, three dark figures with large hunched wings watched as well, their eyes glittering in the lightning. Wind pushed through the leaves, howling against the obstructions and making Shannon’s long hair fly. Huge dark clouds roiled overhead, thunder boomed in the darkness, and before them a large dark fortress sat with its back against the Range.

 

Guards were posted every 100 feet on the perimeter of the building. Their huge dark wings melted in with the shadows.

 

Osmodius turned back to the two Night and the Dawn. “We can’t get past that security easily,” he said. “One of you two will have to go in and make an opening for the rest of us. Who will do it?”

 

Shannon cut off her brother. “Toran’s too well known. All the males ignore the women in the fort.” She cast her brother a glance. “You know it’s true. And I can hide my flute and wear Toran’s guns.”

 

Toran’s mouth was shut tightly, and after a few moments he nodded. Osmodius clapped her on the shoulder. “We’ll be watching. Try to find a way to signal us.”

 

Shannon took the gun halter that Toran handed her and strapped it on. When her brother handed her the long sweeping jacket that had used to be their father’s, she bit her lip hard and shrugged it on, nodding to him. Toran had never taken it off since their parents’ death.

 

Shannon snapped open her wings and soared easily down to the guards. Immediately they were on alert, their weapons held at the ready, but when Shannon landed in the pool of light that was cast by the lanterns, they relaxed, her dark wings revealing her alliance.

 

One of the guards held out his hand. “Code number?”

 

Shannon rattled off a series of numbers that had been Conrad’s. She knew how sloppy the guards were late at night. If it sounded official, they would buy it.

 

As she suspected, they waved her in. She tensed and prepared to run as one called back to her. “Any news from the outside?”

 

Shannon sighed with relief. “Not much. Same Dawn scum report.”

 

The guards chuckled and turned back to watching the night. Shannon hurried inside and found a staircase.

 

She moved upwards until she came to a trap door. Pushing it open, she felt the beginnings of rain spattering on her cheeks. Pulling out a small flashlight, she waved it in the air.

 

She did not have to wait long before a large dark shadow carrying a tawny one soared over. Jeremy came along behind, his wings unsteady and his face drawn with pain. Shannon clipped her flashlight away and looked worriedly at Jeremy’s face. The Dawn shook his head at her, one of his arms stretched back to rub at his sore wings. He patted her shoulder comfortingly and followed Toran into the stairway.

 

Toran led them down the trap door steps, his eyes glittering brightly in the darkness. Osmodius’ eyes flashed as they caught the littlest glitter of light. Jeremy kept a finger hooked in Toran’s belt-loop, following his three nocturnal companions blindly.

 

A footstep pushed them fiercely against the wall and they held their breaths. Voices preceded the shadows that were beginning to flicker in the hall light.

 

“No sign of Raven yet?” an imperious tone queried.

 

Toran hissed softly. Turning to Jeremy, he pressed his lips against the Dawn’s ear. “Gale, the Night who ordered Raven to find us,” he breathed.

 

Shannon’s fists were tight as she watched the Night commander appear in the hallway, accompanied by a dark-blue feathered man. “Spy master,” she breathed.

 

The golden eyes of the spy-master flickered their way and they tensed, but whatever he saw he kept to himself, if indeed he saw anything at all. But he did not look directly at them; instead he turned back to Gale. “None,” he said. “However, one of my scouts discovered a body half-picked by wild animals. He told me that the number of carrion nearby, particularly ravens, was...unusual.” They stopped.

 

Gale cursed, his silvery wings shuffling irately. “He was our best assassin, Vida.”

 

Vida shrugged, looking bored. “He was unpredictable and vile. His tracks, faint and near impossible to find, led us to a small hut. There was blood and signs of a struggle. Er, you said there was four of them?”

 

Gale watched Vida curiously. “Including the Dawn, yes. Why?”

 

Vida stared ahead, looking older and more tired than Shannon had remembered. “We found a fresh grave nearby. One of them was killed, and we know that Raven has been disposed of. So where are the other three?” His eyes again moved to the shadows and Shannon wondered if his legendary senses had picked up their breath.

 

Gale continued along the hall. “We’ll have to get a search going,” he growled. “Find out what happened to them...” his voice faded and the two disappeared around a corner.

 

For a moment they stood silent. Then Shannon thumped her head against the wall. “I’m touched,” she spat. “He’s actually concerned.”

 

Osmodius examined his nails critically. “We should move on.”

 

Toran cast him a withering glare and stole into the hall. A quick glance and he pointed up. “The vents,” he murmured. “This’ll get us to our old quarters and we can stock up. I have a favor to call in from a friend.”

 

* * * *

 

A young man sat silently in a bunk, his long ebony hair in a tight braid coiling down to his waist. His eyes stared colorlessly at the wall as the vent opened. “It’s you,” he whispered.

 

Toran dropped through to stand before him. “You knew I was coming?”

 

The young man tapped his brow. “Heard you,” he said. Light flared from the hallway as someone with a flashlight passed, revealing that half of the young man’s face was covered by a draping cloth that was bound by a thin cord around his brow. Only one dark eye was visible, fixed unblinkingly on Toran. “So they killed your friend,” he said, standing up. His height was normal- it was his long braid and mottled wings that set him apart. “I heard he sent Raven after you.”

 

Toran nodded. “Yeah. I came for that favor you owe me.”

 

The young man nodded, glancing up at the vent. “Hello Shannon,” he called softly.

 

A quick burst of a flashlight in the air duct made him smile and he looked back at Toran. “It’s in here,” he gestured at a tightly locked chest.

 

Toran bent before it. With a flick of his fingers, the braided Night undid the lock. The lid cracked open slowly.

 

Toran reached in and grinned, pulling out a tasseled, jade-plated gun with three gold barrels. There was a slow whistle from the vent and Osmodius’ golden eyes glittered in the dark. “What is that?” he whispered in muted awe.

 

Toran opened the barrel with a flick of his wrist, a lazy, contented grin on his face. “This is Eli’s specially designed hand-held gun with engraved markings and tassel unique to him. It’s never missed, and neither has Eli.”

 

As Toran loaded the legendary gun, the mottle-winged Night, called Eli, pulled away the cloth hanging over his face.

 

Quite suddenly Osmodius flipped out of the vent and faced Eli, almost touching him. Despite his brief acquaintance, Toran had never seen the cat-man quite so disturbed, even when he’d been fighting Raven.

 

Eli watched him calmly. The cause of the disruption was his face. The skin was pale and drawn, puckered around five long, deep scars that traced along his cheekbone and over his eye. The eye itself was white-blind.

 

Osmodius’ claws brushed the scars, his face stiff. “Where did you receive these?” he hissed softly.

 

Eli shrugged. “It was when I was a child. A mother catr found me with her cub. We were just play-mates.”

 

Osmodius glanced at the gun again. “I’d heard of the best shot in all of Aro, and I suspected. Now...”

 

Eli smiled faintly. “You recognize me now, my old friend? I knew it was you when you entered the vents. Very distinctive smell.”

 

Osmodius stepped back, his face stricken. “I thought you were dead,” he hissed. “Why did you not send word?”

 

Eli shrugged again.

 

Toran glanced between them. “You mean you know each other?” he asked, amazed.

 

Osmodius nodded. “For a long time.” The cat-man turned to Eli, again carrying dread in his eyes. “Your weapon is well know. They will come for you.”

 

Eli nodded. “I will wait. No more will they use me as their pet. Death will be no worse than my current existence.”

 

While Osmodius bit his lip and considered, Shannon whistled low under her breath. “The Fates are playing with us tonight then,” she said, glancing about her.

 

A sound in the hallway cut her off and all of them held their breath. A shadow passed by the light of the door-window, and then moved off. All of them, excepting Eli, gave a small sigh of relief. “Go now,” the strange Night murmured to them. “We will see what becomes of us all.”

 

Toran nodded and dove back up into the ventilation, Shannon quick on his heels. Jeremy gave Osmodius a hiss from inside the vent that drew the catr away. The cat-man gave Eli’s hand one last squeeze before disappearing into the darkness.

 

All was silence for about five minutes after they left. Eli sat in the darkness, staring at nothing. Then his eyes roved over to the small lock on his door. He got up and twisted it. Then he moved to the far corner of his small room, and bent in front of another chest of drawers. Slowly he unbound his hair, letting it fall long and loose about his face. From within the folds of his hair he drew a key and fit it into the smallest drawer. With a click he unlocked it and drew it open. Inside was a tiny keypad, which he easily hooked to the wall. He punched in a few digits and a green light popped on, blinking slowly. “You have twenty minutes, my friends,” Eli whispered. “Use them well.”

 

* * * *

 

The three winged Aronians and the catr crept through the halls, a couple of unconscious guards and a slightly battered roof tile the only evidence that they had been there. Mere shadows on the walls, they infiltrated the building to its depths before any guards were seen. “Lazy night,” Shannon muttered.

 

“This is a little lax,” Toran agreed. “I intend to write a very strong letter of complaint to the board of Night affairs.”

 

Osmodius cast him a wry smile, but Jeremy said nothing.

 

 

Gale sat by himself in a dark office, staring at the wall. The door creaked as someone opened it and he stirred irately. “I gave you no leave to enter,” he snapped.

 

“I gave you no choice about my entering,” a cold, familiar voice snapped back. Gale squinted through the shadows and started. “Toran?” he gasped. “How did you...”

 

“Survive?” Toran snarled. “Yes, that is a question to ask, isn’t it. How do you think we survived, Shannon?”

 

Gale jumped again, his hands clutching white around his seat arms as Shannon appeared. “Hmmm,” she mused darkly. “Maybe you can answer that question for us, Gale. How did we survive, when you sent your best assassin after us? How did we survive indeed?”

 

Another appeared behind them, a catr of elegant dress. “How will you survive now that they’ve come to take what you owe them?”

 

And then another shadow appeared, a gaunt, hollow-faced Dawn with large circles under his eyes. He looked like he had been through a lot of pain in a short amount of time. “Your little pet tortured me,” he said softly. “I only assume that you would have tortured me as well, to gain information. That is not something I forgive easily. He ripped out my pinions, so one of Toran’s bullets ripped out his life. An eye for an eye, don’t you think? And you were the one who held his leash. An accomplice, and I believe that all accomplices receive punishments too.”

 

Gale lurched forward and slammed his hand on a red button on his desk. Lights started flashing in the hallways and a siren wailed throughout the complex. Immediately the sounds of boots hitting the floor caught their ears. Toran glanced at Shannon. “Osmodius and I will hold them at the door,” he said. “Be quick.”

 

They exited and shut the door behind them, leaving Gale at the mercy of Shannon and Jeremy.

 

* * * *

 

Eli stared blankly at the little box on the wall. It blinked its clock at him. 10:03...10:02....10:01...10:00...10:00...10:00...

 

A little warning blip echoed and the countdown continued. Eli closed his eyes briefly. “Ten minutes left, Toran,” he whispered. “Hurry.”

 

* * * *

 

Toran and Osmodius were hard pressed. Night forces were all around them. Both were bleeding from several wounds, many of them fatal, but still they fought on. Their eyes glittered in the semi-darkness and their weapons, especially the borrowed gun from Eli, were causing great damage. Soon they were surrounded on all sides, fighting tooth and nail to survive.

 

 

Shannon and Jeremy played with Gale, driving him around the office, nicking him with their claws, diving in with their weapons, laughing and punishing. The terrified general had no pride left in his body. He wept and pleaded, until finally, tired of him, Shannon put a bolt of magic through his head, and he fell dead at their feet.

 

 

Pounding on Eli’s door caused the Night neither worry nor fear. He sat unmoving, watching the numbers on the screen before him. 00:10...00:09...00:08...

 

 

Shannon and Jeremy turned as Night soldiers burst in through the window, drawing their weapons once again to take on the new enemy.

 

 

Toran and Osmodius finally collapsed, their wounds overriding them, small smiles on their faces.

 

 

Eli saw nothing but the numbers. 00:04...00:03....00:02...00:01...

He blinked.

 

* * * *

 

The entire compound exploded that night, destroying the majority of the Night forces, the two Night rebels, and the single Dawn that was there, along with the catr whom no one knew. On the next morning the two bloody, tired forces called a truce, sending ambassadors to either side to ensure the truce would hold. A lonely Aronian in the woods lit four small fires, feeding them with herbs and pine boughs. “Well done, my friends,” he whispered. “Well done.”