The two leaders of Theor would soon wed fine brides, and so begin a fresh future for all the flocks. Ray and Huldergas became tentative brothers and partners.
Huldergas had earlier dispatched a letter to Covera for public notice via one of the swift soaring Flyers of Rensk. The reply came back within days. The announcement of Plecot and Briola's deaths (murders) was not well received. But upon hearing the happy news of their leader's intentions to marry into the northern clan, Coverans praised the union with great optimism. Ray's return from captivity and his partnership with Huldergas were also seen as significant.
Of course, no one in Covera was made aware of the vast tunnel system unearthed just across the Kumil mountain range that protected the northern border. Nor had they worried about a potential invasion into their pristine lands by barbaric Raiders. Luckily, that plan was stopped just in time.
Preparations were made for a royal feast to signify the safe return of Huldergas and to honor his young bride.
In Rensk there was nonstop merriment despite the recent funerals. All agreed to put that ugly episode well behind them. Also, loved ones needed to take their minds off of the battles being fought by the guards, their husbands and sons, who never ventured beyond the immediate area before. Success was not an option, so everyone envisioned victory. Northern Theor would be a safe shelter for her scattered flocks. And a royal wedding was about to take place. Changes would bring much to celebrate in the times to come.
Ray would exchange vows with Weann, who came from a well-bred flock revered for their vibrant plumage. Her original gathering, Vesta Ny, was one of the oldest in all of Theor. Sacked by Raiders several seasons earlier, the survivors of V-Ny scattered and lived among the dirt clans. She and Ray fled at Promise Point after a raid on Fleet's gathering. They went on to Gulldune where Ray raised an army who escorted home. The guards at Rensk and the rebels, upon Ray's orders, were sent to hunt down Raiders. His rise to power was quickened by the death of his father, Plecot, but Ray proved to be a just and courageous leader the flocks could look up to.
Huldergas would marry Jillani in Covera. She was an elegant nobling, daughter of Plecot and sister to Ray. Their union would unite the territories of Theor like never before. She wanted him, but mostly she was looking forward to living in more splendid surroundings. Her royal trappings would have to wait, however, until after Briola's Raiders were flushed out and exterminated. Also, her brother would be wed before her at Rensk.
Wedding plans. The countless details kept the enthusiastic brides-to-be busy. Weann and Jillani had similar tastes that spun off each other. Their gay chatter swept through the corridors of Rensk like the wind and sand of Northern Theor: restrained one moment, extreme in the next. But grand ceremonies were trifle amusements compared to the more important purpose behind these pairings. Power. Both females wanted it.
At first, Ray and Huldergas did their best to look interested in these exchanges. They suffered through them at dawn and at every meal. At one point, Huldergas offered to have items flown in from Covera: flowers, fine fabrics and crushed dymes. Weann envisioned herself and the main courtyard smelling sweet and adorned in sparkling colors. Ray scolded Huldergas. He had wanted his remaining Flyers to be on standby for battle, but after much dispute, he afforded two of the older ones to retrieve goods from Covera. The females were so grateful to their mates that they no longer burdened them with particulars. Neither ruler had much more to say about it anyway.
There were more important matters to consider. Ray knew Huldergas was hiding something of tremendous value in Covera. He tried to wheedle it out of him with questions about his sister's new home, but got nowhere. That mystery would have to wait. It was more of a diversion from his more pressing concerns than anything else.
Battle. Status reports came at odd intervals, keeping Ray up half the night. During the day, he looked to the skies for the broad-winged Flyers and their trainers whenever he could slip away from Weann. Ten Raider divisions needed to be confronted nearly simultaneously if the campaign was to be a success. Ray wondered if his forces should have had more practice at hand-to-hand combat. After all, what was the hurry? The Raiders had no idea that Briola was dead. The pungent jupe burning atop of Mount Lepo would continue to fowl up the Raider's communication lines for many moons. But how were the flocks left in Gulldune managing on their own all this time? He had a responsibility to them and the loved ones they entrusted to him for the fighting.
"Second guessing yourself is one of the drawbacks to being a leader," Huldergas stated one morning over breakfast. He didn't relish Ray's inexperience at such a turbulent time. He could see plainly how the endless waiting and sleepless nights were affecting Ray.
"We'll do this. We have to," was all Ray could say. His feathers had not been groomed.
"A leader of few words has less to regret once his term has ended," Huldergas moaned. His thoughts were with Plecot then and the public confession he made regarding the murder of his sons. He hoped his own death would be less controversial, more stylish.
Ray nodded off across the table from 'the flamboyant one' until hot food arrived.
There had been no news at all the entire first two days and nights. Those were the hardest of all to get through. Then the first Flyer appeared from the east with news from Raider Outpost #9. The large detachment Ray sent there proved to be more than enough to overpower the Raiders, who were apparently taken by surprise in their sleep.
"Well, why shouldn't they sleep soundly? They've never been attacked before," Ray reiterated on an earlier speech he had made to his army. He felt a renewed confidence in his plot by this initial report. Huldergas shared in his optimism and congratulated him.
The dusty scout added, "None of our own were killed or seriously hurt in the exchange. All the Raiders were killed once no scholars were found amongst them. The detachment will proceed next to Outpost #8 to the north. The headwinds will be more daunting as they press on, but they took water flasks and food from the Raider cave to help restore their strength during rest periods. Is there anything you wish to relay to them?"
Ray was heartened again by the care taken to follow all his instructions. He understood how uneasy his forces were with the idea of confronting these thugs. If panicky rebels by chance did in any scholars, Ray would not punish them for it. But knowledge was an important resource that merited preserving no matter what the source. He warned them not to drink the ale Raiders used to send scented messages to each other. "Take nothing except weapons and what you can use to survive. We can always return to the outposts at our leisure if there are goods there worth retrieving." They had heeded his words well.
"Tell them that I couldn't be prouder of each and every one of them. They united bravely under one banner, and left the safety of Gulldune and Rensk to combat a mutual enemy. I gave them the largest share of targets to strike, so have them pace their march wisely. Keep at it for all our sakes and good luck. Report back here when Outpost #8 has fallen."
The dutiful scout took no rest but was given a fresh Flyer and returned to his detachment. He would remain airborne as a lookout for the band of cloaked figures below, clawing their way through ceaseless sand waves to the next den of unwitting terrorists. The tides were turning against the Raiders once and for all.
Ray quickly sent word to the populace of Rensk that nine outposts remained to be taken. The news brought a fresh wave of celebration throughout the gathering.
By nightfall a Flyer from the west arrived with a similar report regarding Outpost #7. The scout looked too young to be a Trainer, but his mount was one of the more docile Flyers. It sat low and still in order to assist in the removal of a badly injured guard from the saddle pouch on its shoulders. "We barely outnumbered them, but they were drunk and underestimated our abilities. They thought we were joking when we gave them the news about Briola. Three of them were struck and killed by poisoned barbs. The others sobered up fast and came at us with viscous devises that peel flesh from bones. Goss received a nasty gash in his side. We defeated them eventually and took their weapons. We also discovered these scrolls. The author of them did not reside there." The scout handed the parchments over to Ray, who was pleased by all that he heard. The youth fed and watered his beast then flew off to escort his detachment back to Rensk. Outpost #7 was their only target. Goss was taken inside for medical treatment.
Ray sent word again to his clansmen. "Now there are eight outposts left to defeat." The news got everyone who decided to turn in early out of bed and back on the streets.
Ray examined the scrolls only briefly then took them at once to his sister. Jillani was alone and weaving at her loom. She had ordered Huldergas out of her chambers moments earlier. He found her pretense of virtue hilarious, but decided it was best to humor her for the time being. She saw now that Ray looked troubled, the band of feathers around his throat was bright red. "I thought the reports were good so far," she remarked.
"What are these?" Ray implored. He held out the scrolls with tense talons.
Jillani carefully unfolded them. "They look like sketches of plants and wildlife," she calmly replied, "with footnotes, detailed descriptions-
"What were they doing in a Raider outpost?" Ray demanded.
Jillani paused to consider the question's connotations then burst into laughter. "Surely, you do not think that these poorly rendered images are mine, brother? Obviously, Raiders have scholars too, who take enough interest in such things to record them. I did not invent the pastime, you know?"
Ray looked at the images more closely. He saw nothing there that resembled the meticulous lines so typical of his sister's artwork. Even as a hatchling, her skills were impressive. He was glad to realize she was innocent. "I'm sorry. The strain of battles going on all around me hasn't been easy. Coupled with the fact that you have an unnatural ability to travel outside your body . . . made my imagination play tricks on me."
Jillani took a step back. "What makes you think I would have anything to do with Briola's kind? Are you afraid of me, Ray? I am on your side, you know. We already had our private little chat, remember?" She gave him back the scrolls, turned back to her spools of yarn and pretended not to hear his response.
"Yes, but for how long?"
Jillani ignored her brother's rudeness, accepting his excuse of fatigue and concern as its source. Instead, she thought back to the one scroll she had spotted, containing the plant needed to make her dream travel potion. There was no mention of mixing its extract with crushed dymes in the footnotes, but the words medicinal value made her wonder what the author knew about the flower's unusual properties. She would need to see it again.
Another report came during the night. The attack went well, but Ray was shocked to hear that the Raiders at Outpost # 6 had setup a crude training arena for captured Flyers. "There were twenty beasts in all. Some looked starved into submission. They were all so wild from abuse that there was no saving them," the scout alleged. "Forgive me, Ray, but I gave the order to have them killed. I've spent my whole life working with their kind. It was my opinion that those poor creatures could not be rehabilitated, or trained properly."
Ray regarded the male before him with compassion. The loss of that many winged beasts was indeed unfortunate. "I respect your experience and the difficult decision you made. It will be up to us to capture and break in the wild ones from now on. I trust the Trainers of Rensk to do the job correctly and with greater care. We owe a good deal to these marvelous animals," he said, looking up at the imposing creature calmly resting at the side of his Trainer and friend.
Ray sent word that seven outposts remained. He omitted the part about slaughtering Flyers. Huldergas did not seem surprised by the report. "Raiders have always made their own plans, Ray. I was not aware of their attempts to tame Flyers, and I doubt even Plecot knew of it. Briola's kind made their living as opportunists, you know."
Ray had no proof that either leader knew of the training arena, so he used his newly acquired diplomacy to assure his brother that no such suspicion ever entered his mind. He added, "Raiders flying here or to Covera would have been a disaster for everyone."
Huldergas cringed at the thought. "Indeed, a disaster. First the tunnels. Now this. Good thing your army put a stop to it before their plans succeeded. Well, goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Weann tried to get Ray to sleep beside her once he returned to their chambers. He allowed her to stroke his back with the soft under padding of her slender talons. She entreated the caged fidgeros to sing a soft melody.
* * *
A thick fog had blanketed the still waters just offshore of Gulldune all that morning. Fish occasionally nibbled at the bait on the old port guard's line, but none were biting. His thin flesh chilled by the damp air. Malting feathers sat in clumps on the bench and stone retaining wall like dead leaves.
"No breakfast again for the magistrate?" someone asked. He turned around. A young female walked out of the smoke made by the cooking fires. It was his daughter. She waited a respectable amount of time before bringing him some food. "The fish must have all decided to sleep in late," she consoled him. "It couldn't possibly be your technique."
"No," he stated bluntly. "There is something wrong. These are ideal conditions for fishing." His daughter nearly laughed at his denial when she saw how genuinely concerned he was. "Something has scared them off," he added.
"Eat this before it gets cold," she said. "The fog is playing tricks on your mind."
A frozen talon seized her wrist just then. "I've been the port guard for more moons than your own mother ever lived. I know my post better than anyone. Go get your hatchling and start climbing Lepo."
She was hurt and shocked by the old one like never before. Her feathers bristled all over with fear. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"Yes. Something is coming."
His daughter tried to rub the pain out of her wrist. "Like what?"
"Could just be a large school of razor fins after the smaller fish, or-"
"Or what?"
"Sea Raiders," he whispered.
The female shrank back into the smoke at the sound of those two words - Sea Raiders. She had heard her father tell the young ones of a time long ago when slimy beasts attacked Gulldune from the sea. Their bloated forms heaped upon enormous barges as their slaves rowed them toward the defenseless refugees of Northern Theor. There were no sails to power the vessels, but the sheer number of oarsmen was so great that the weighted crafts seemed to glide just above the water's surface.
It was her father who rang the alarm back then. Numerous port guards had come down from the gathering with their weapons at the sound of the bell's urgency. None of them had ever seen such a terrifying sight. Many males hollered back to their mates to flee into the mountainside with their hatchlings. Others wanted them to run south straight into Raider territory. Neither encounter appealed to them-
"I can hear something splashing-" the old one reported to no one. His daughter had already gone to warn the others. He strained his weak eyes to see through the fog.
"Someone should try to reach Ray," the female shouted to her neighbors. They looked up from their bowls of warm broth at her panic stricken face. "Sea Raiders are coming!"
Screams began to rise up from the smoke from one end of the gathering to the other as the news of an attack by sea spread through the flock. The old port guard rang the alarm bell when the splashes became louder and more rhythmic, like numerous oars pulling hard from weighted barges. Gulldune was left with only a small company of guards when Ray left with the rebel army three months earlier. A few old males came down to the water's edge with their crude weapons. Too few, thought the old one. Ray and the rebels would already be engaging the Raiders by now if they even made it all the way to Rensk. Ah well.
He was alone with his thoughts on the retaining wall long enough to do something he had not done in many seasons. From his satchel he removed a small flask of liquid and drank down all its contents. Then he sat back on his bench, closed his eyes and dreamed of a place he had enjoyed as a hatchling. He grew up near a small gathering along the southern shores of Theor far beyond Promise Point. The wind there was not filled with sand but with the sweet fragrance of the flowers that grew high above the dunes. He dreamed of clear blue skies, warm berry tarts, sunshine and games. The ocean and clansmen were serene back then in that place, and the fish were always plentiful….
* * *
Midmorning arrived along with a stranger to Rensk. Hodel Si stood uneasy before Ray and Huldergas as the one and only Raider captive taken since the battles began. Ray held up the tunnel map drawn by Hodel Si. "This is the only reason you are still alive," he stated. "That is your name at the bottom, yes?"
The old male was covered in dusty rags after having been marched north straight into the wind from Raider Outpost #2. He had witnessed the skillful slaughter of the stunned Raiders, waited for his turn and sat with his scrolls at the entrance to the tunnel. The guards seized him and headed into the sand waves from where they came. Once at Rensk, he was given all the water he wanted, but was not allowed to sit. "Yes, I am Hodel Si."
"You are a scholar?"
"Yes."
"Good. You will remain here and alive as my scholar if you stay out of trouble. Sit."
The male sat down with his cherished scrolls. His plumage was brushed off by a servant.
The two leaders of Theor exchanged a few words while they eyed the Raider tattoo on the old one's leg. Ray looked tired and in no mood to interrogate the old one any further. He was about to order the guards to take Hodel Si to a locked chamber.
"Are the tunnels nearly finished?" asked Huldergas.
"The main tunnel will need explosives before it can be further excavated. The others are all dead ends into what were once living chambers. Your territories are still out of reach for those of us who cannot fly."
Huldergas was relieved to hear this. "What are in those scrolls?"
The old scholar opened one scroll to reveal the plans for a flying barge. "It will never get off the ground," he said. "I only designed it to humor Briola."
Another scroll showed a table of numbers. "These explain the doses required to make scented signals to Raider outposts throughout the year." The months were listed along the top edge of the parchment. A list of basic messages was along the left-hand side. The numbers inside the table gave the exact amount of drink needed to ingest. Once the drink was consumed, a scent gland at the base of the neck would exude the message on the wind. The winds of Northern Theor blew north to south between the months of Nu and Ly and from south to north from Ly to Nu. Their intensity peaked just after the midway months of Fi and Ye. The drink had to be stronger as the winds grew weaker.
Ray and Huldergas were impressed by the elaborate system Raiders used to speak over long distances. "Our scent glands are only used for short-range messages and usually only as a warning to fight or a prelude to mating," stated Huldergas.
Ray had seen many Raiders deliver messages on the wind. "I lived with the Raiders for eight seasons and I don't recall them being that strict about measuring the dosage they ingested. They simply sipped at their flasks and stood out in a clearing."
"It had become second nature to them," Hodel Si explained. "I keep the chart only to boast of its origins: my great grandfather devised it. He was a scholar too."
Ray took in the significance of that boast. "Then the Raiders would never have been able to manage such a large territory if it had not been for this scented system your great grandfather came up with? They would have been isolated bands working independently of one another and in competition with each other."
"That's right. They needed relay stations at first but their range grew longer with each generation. The outposts were positioned to keep the lines open. The Raiders probably would have killed themselves off long ago, but for the leaders who insisted on strength in numbers and in an even distribution of goods. Survival was the initial goal. Once that was achieved they began to think about expansion. The Coverans were once nice enough to supply them with a tunnel into a new and lush territory. It didn't take them long before they realized their mistake. They fought off the Raiders and sealed the tunnel shut behind them. Those Coverans who were left here had no chance of escape."
Huldergas knew about this event and how it was omitted from the historic records of Covera. The entrance to the tunnel was kept secret. The dangers of reopening the passageway through the mountains were too great to risk again.
Just then Weann and Jillani joined the males on the leisure deck. The younger female eyed the old scholar and his scrolls with curiosity. Weann was only interested in Ray.
Hodel Si bowed low to the lovely females then sat and sipped at the soothing broth brought to him by a servant. His eyes were grey and his mind was black with thoughts of an uncertain future. Still, this new leader of Rensk seemed intelligent. Ray had the forethought to spare the lives of scholars. How bad could serving him be? He could feel the piercing stare of Jillani on his cheekbone. His feathers bristled involuntarily. "Once the Raiders saw what was on the other side of the mountains they wanted to find a way of getting back there. That was how the whole system of training Flyers came into being. You know the rest. Would you care to view the other scrolls? I would be happy to answer your question."
Jillani sat up on her perch, anxious to take a glance at those parchments.
Ray called in the guards. "Not now. Go with them," he said and waved the old male away. He was too tired to even eat much less think. He let Weann cut up fruit for him.
Jillani was clearly put out by her brother. She pouted as the old scholar traipsed off with the scrolls tucked under his overgrown feathers. Ray was watching her with one eye, so she hid her scowl behind a large mug of broth. Besides, it was not regal to appear so obviously perturbed.
Huldergas took one of her small talons into his and kissed it sweetly. "It's going to be a long day. Pace yourself, my dear."
…to be continued
