Joss, brother to Gorz, stood silent before the Raider leader. He carried the ankle band once worn by the former divisional leader. Briola circled him and snorted, his feathered headdress fanned high above his broad brow. "Disrespect toward me will bring a swift and fatal response. This was a rule that Gorz apparently forgot." He circled once more, waiting for a reprisal. When none came, he stopped in front of the younger male and struck him hard across the face. Joss did not complain. Instead, he knelt at Briola's talons, who named him as the new southern divisional leader. "That's better. Hodel Si and the map makers will remain here to continue their work. Send your niece to Plecot in Rensk at once. Her role as royal concubine there will make up for her father's death and benefit your clan for as long as Plecot favors the female."

"By your command," replied Joss.

Jillani met Bok, head of the guard at Rensk, on the leisure deck. Huldergas, the current Coveran leader, was there too. She avoided the leader's eyes, allowing her usual regal demeanor to replace the severed nerves she had earlier succumbed to in her private chambers. Her embarrassing correspondence with Huldergas would keep while she questioned Bok about the large unknown clan moving west toward Rensk. "What's all this about an army traveling under my father's insignia?"

"I plan to fly to the sight myself and see what is amiss, Jillani. My scouts report seeing a large assembly in the open desert and marching this way. They broke ranks and stood in a stationary pattern, into the shape of Plecot's crest. Their numbers were determined to be around five hundred."

"Surely your scouts exaggerate. The sand waves must have played tricks with their eyes. Where could such a large clan have come from? Everyone knows the gatherings beyond these walls hold only ten to thirty dirt clansmen at best. Only Gulldune contains so many-"

"We don't know where they came from as yet. Their intentions may be hostile despite their attempt to identify themselves with our clan. Have no fear, dear nobling, my guards will take every measure to protect you and Rensk in your father's absence. Now please return to your chambers."

"Hold on," Huldergas interjected. He stood between them and forced Jillani to finally look at him. His unsparing deep blue gaze filled her vision like one of her fantasy sketches. His choice breeding showed brightly in the rich tones of his oiled plumage. Crushed dyme powder traced the edges of his arched brow like a shimmering band of moonlight. What powder was left over had been rubbed onto the muscles of his upper limbs. His lean figure seemed to command a rare source of light unto itself. Clearly he was a male of extraordinary power and bearing. "I do not desire to wait here alone for Plecot's return. And I am sure that his nobling would prefer my company over the solitude of her chambers. Would you do me the honor of staying Jillani?"

She bowed low before the Coveran leader. "If it should please you," was all she could manage to say. But when she arose, the soft pad of his claw met her cheek and remained there. She felt a keen awkwardness so near to this presumptuous male, but she did not recoil from him.

Bok saw nothing as he spoke from behind Huldergas. "Very well then. Ring for a servant to attend you both. It is nearly the hour for our afternoon meal. Farewell," he said then swiftly headed for the rooftops and his Flyers.

Jillani cursed her stubbornness and silence as Huldergas slowly lick his lips. "Hmm. You do please me, my dear," he whispered, "and I wish to satisfy my hunger now, unless, of course, you want me to show a certain letter and enchanting sketch to your father. What story could you give old Plecot for sending me such a daring proposal of mating, and at your age too? This image of you as a grown female is most provocative."

"Please don't show him either one. It was foolish of me-"

"Nonsense. It showed more courage and ambition than Plecot ever did. I was surprised but not at all disappointed by your youth. All noblings eventually grow up, after all, and I can already see that you are a bride well worth waiting for. Meanwhile, my discretion will cost you very little. All I ask for is a small deposit in advance of our wedding." He tossed her scroll onto the table, shook his bright headdress and kissed her deeply.

Jillani was shocked by his brazen conduct. She struggled against his embrace and the force of his mouth over hers, but his determination easily dragged her small frame down to the floor. He had her razor sharp claws pinned beneath the base of a heavy perch. A warm musky scent filled her nostrils. His scent. She was being compromised by a skilled handler of females. What was worse, she let herself be enveloped by passion's flame despite her anger with him. Jillani was left to wrestle with herself. Though she had sought earlier to please him, she now hoped to repay this assault by seizing the scroll, burning it, then informing the guards of his ill-treatment of her. Plecot would return home to find the insolent bastard in chains.

The day grew late as Ray's rebels spotted a long wall of stone in the distance. Rensk was not a gathering that the refugees of Gulldune had ever seen before, but Ray knew the immense silhouette of his birthplace well. Well enough to know that this was not it. Nonetheless, he steered them toward it, the only clan-made feature left standing in that harsh wilderness. Ray hoped to use it as a temporary buffer against the steady onslaught of sand waves. The rebel army had encountered neither dirt clans nor Raiders since leaving the coast. Ray knew his companions were hungry and tired from the long march inland. He had promises them warm hospitality once they reached Rensk. The flyers who appeared overhead earlier that day must have told his father of their coming by now. Soon this journey would end so that another could replace it.

Their aim was to find and terminate Raiders from one end of Northern Theor to the other. The restful time for settling down and making new homes or future plans would have to wait. Ray's greatest desire was to be with Weann. He wanted her offspring. Although the mental image he had of her cradling egg sacks in her talons brought him happiness he hoped she would not conceive until it was safe to do so.

When the army arrived at the abandoned ruins, Ray ordered them to fan out along its south side to avoid the sand waves. Once they took shelter there, shook out their dusty cloaks and found places in which to sit and rest, Ray ordered the water flasks to be past around. Guards were set up at both ends of the assembly. Here, they could talk amongst themselves and be heard over the gritty wind. Ray allowed them time to check on their loved ones before speaking.

Weann was too busy fussing over her damaged plumage to notice the large rodent that ran right past her. Those who did see it thought it was funny. Everyone admired Weann's beauty, but none more than herself.

Ray walked up and down the line, asking how the clans were getting on. They seemed calm and hopeful. He never stopped marveling at how such a mixed flock could travel so well and strive for the same goals together.

Once the water was spent, Ray asked for whatever food there was to be dispensed to those who needed it. This was done without a quarrel.

"Is it far?" someone asked. "Rensk?"

"No, it's within an hour's walk," replied Ray. "But rest awhile. We let Plecot know we're coming. Rensk will fill your vision long before we reach it."

"Are its outer walls as tall as these?" asked another.

"Much taller," Ray answered without looking up. "And much thicker too. They form a four-sided barrier against sand waves and Raiders."

"Have you ever flown one of those huge winged creatures, those Flyers?" a female asked.

"No, but my brother, Frimmy, was an accomplished Trainer. He was about to teach me the basics when . . . when he and my two other brothers were ambushed and killed by Raiders."

An awkward silence fell over the army then. Only the same gritty wind that blew both day and night could be heard around them.

"Will I be taught how to ride your flying beasts?" asked Weann after a time. Her flightless upper limbs were outstretched and her head held high as she imitated one. "I do not fear them, for they are not as intelligent as we are. If they were, they would not allow themselves to be caught."

"Females do not ride Flyers, my dear. It is too dangerous to travel far from the gathering."

Everyone laughed at Ray's remark, considering how perilous a trip they had just made from Gulldune with nearly two hundred females. The Sea of Myov was both a blessing and a curse to them. Thus far, the mainland presented only an unpleasant day's walk, a harsh reminder to those refugees who had lived far too long on the protected north side of Mount Lepo.

Ray laughed to himself. "That was rather silly of me, I know, but my clan at Rensk has never allowed females to go beyond the outer walls. There is not much to see here anyway. But one day, once we have rid Theor of these savages, the Raiders, anyone who wishes to may freely leave one gathering for another, or build a gathering of their own without fear of attack. It is my hope, however, that our unique band of mixed species remain together as one unified flock. To separate now would only cause the old frictions between us to return."

The entire assembly rose up in support of Ray's message and also to embrace one another. They were ready to move on as one clan. Cloaks were wrapped around them and their hoods were pulled down low. Without a word from Ray, they quickly fell into formation, each with a hand on the one in front of them. Perimeters were reinforced. Weapons were checked.

It was on to Rensk where all their future hopes awaited them.

Jillani had a vision. She traveled into it, and was propelled by it.

Her dream takes her away from Rensk and back to Covera where the shepherd boy, Gad, still tends his herd of lumbering, yellow-haired beasts. He waves to her. They meet on a footbridge over a gentle brook, but Jillani ignores Gad. Instead, she stares with pleasant envy at the fresh trickle of water below. Dark wells supply the only water there is in Northern Theor. She looks out at the Kumil mountain range, and notes how remarkably different its southern face appears compared to its northern one. The slopes here are smooth and grassy, not sand-blasted barren rocks. The path leading up the bridge is frosted with crushed dymes, the glittery mineral mined by her clan.

Only then does she turn her attention to Gad. He hands her a white blossom. Its delicate smell does not escape her keen senses. "Thank you."

"Who are you? Where do you come from?" he asks.

"I am Jillani, mate to Huldergas," she heard herself saying. I came from-"

"But Huldergas is dead. He was killed while visiting that savage northern gathering called Rensk. Killed by its leader."

"Plecot?"

"No, I heard that his name is Ray."

"Ray? My brother is dead. Dirt clansmen ambushed all four of my brothers and killed three of them. Ray was rescued by Raiders-"

"No, Jillani, Ray lives. And it was Raiders who murdered Frimmy, Ert and Umber. Go ask Briola what he did with Ray. Ask Plecot. They will tell you more lies in order to protect their partnership."

"But-"

Jillani returned then to Rensk with a painful jolt. Her head struck the floor. Huldergas was finished with her at last. The smile on his face showed genuine satisfaction. She looked away from him as confusion fused with her anger. The floor of the leisure deck still had traces of beach sand trapped in deep grooves from her last dream journey. A large mixed flock had been moving as one. A large clan was spotted moving inland from the coast. Jillanli felt oddly pleased with herself. This time she returned with more than just sand and a clue. This time she returned with the truth, prophesy and a crushed white blossom clenched in one claw.

"I hope you are able to appreciate what a great privilege it is to be chosen by me," Huldergas stated plainly. "We will be wed in two seasons." Once his oath was given he tore up the scrolls she had sent him. "Get up," he ordered without offering her any help. Her plumage was ruined, but he cared only about his own. "Go to your chambers and prepare for your father's return. If you join us calmly when he arrives, I will indicate having some interest in you. Any more than a single remark would be seen as too forward, considering your age. Run along now. Be the regal nobling you are. Crying now would only disappoint us both, and spoil this atmosphere of mutual triumph." He handed her the remnants of her scrolls to dispose of as she saw fit.

Jillani remained silent and restrained as she stood up, took the scraps of parchment and left the leisure deck. The pain of his wild response to her impulsive ambitions would pass. Besides, she did not cry out or struggle before, so she saw no need to call for the guards then. "I will send a servant," was all she said.

There were more important things for her to consider, things that came upon her too quickly. There was her treacherous father, Plecot, and his brutish partner, Briola. There was Huldergas, who insured that his first visit to Rensk would be his last. There was Ray, who was somehow coming home after all these years, and with many followers. Jillani would leave the greedy Coveran leader in a false state of contentment only to be dealt with soon enough by that ghost.

Gad had revealed the future and the past. He showed her the rich bounty and the wastefulness. This brought Jillani back to herself. She discovered how to defy the laws that governed all life. Flightless birds could in fact possess wings of a fashion. But she thought that dream travel was only possible by consuming the potion she made. Thanks to the attack on her by Huldergas, perhaps she only needed heightened levels of her own chemistry to make such journeys. All these things - Plecot's unlikely allegiance with Briola after decades of war, her interest and ordeal with the Coveran leader, Gad's insights - these were not mere coincidences.

Within her chambers, Jillani slipped into a hot tub. Her hatred and shock quickly evaporated, for these were unproductive emotions for weak creatures to lanquish in. "Evolution can derive from cataclysmic events," she stated while sniffing the five white pedals that remained in her claws. "Five pedals for the five storms that are about to collide at Rensk." Jillani sat calmly in the eye of her storm, knowing that only one or two of them would survive the encounter. Her heart went out to Ray alone. Rather than wait for Bok to return with another report, she decided to meet the approaching clan on the wings of her own mind. She had to know if Ray was truly alive. "Who else would have had the refugees stand in the shape of our family crest?" Also, she felt he had urgent need of her. Rensk was no longer the home he remembered.

With eyes closed, she filled her heart with a deep longing to see her long lost brother. She recalled forming a pile of rocks for use as weapons while waiting for him and her other brothers at the gate. That was the day they were all taken from her. She forced herself beyond that event, past the gate, and into the open desert. The steamy water in her bath was soon replaced with lateral showers of course sand, though she could not actually feel it. A stone wall appeared through the blinding veil. She flew toward it. But when she saw the large assembly that had taken refuge behind it she feared being spotted, so she imagined herself as a common rodent. After a brief transition time, she scurried low to the ground on four paws along the rows of strange faces. Never had she seen such a diverse flock.

Then she stopped just past a beautiful female who was cleaning her stunning feathers. Jillani wished hard to be invisible, and then she was. A male suddenly called to the beautiful one. He called her Weann. They spoke for a moment then parted. When he left to chat with the others Jillani followed. The male talked while the others ate and drank. Then someone asked a question. They referred to him as Ray. Jillani circled Ray. Still, no one had seen her. She studied the face of this mature male, hoping to find some resemblance to the youth she once knew and loved. His sandy feathers were of noble coloring, and the eyes were the same.

"Ray," she shouted.

. . . to be continued . . .