Steel yourselves, brothers, Astride the Wind sent.
The reply was a feeling without words, Borne on the Drafts and Embracing the Clouds would fly with him to destroy the enemy. Astride the Wind never thought otherwise.
Astride the Wind pulled up past the back end of the cloud, facing the flying boat. A breath caught in his throat when he saw the third man there. He was tall and lithe, young but not youthful, wrapped in the confining robes of human mages. His hands were clasped in front of him and his eyes blazed with a commanding light. His face was a mask of jagged scars. The two soldiers were turned to face him and Astride the Wind could see the newcomer's mouth moving. He was giving them orders and they were listening intently. This new human was the Enemy, the slaver, the general.
Jurneille.
He is come, brothers, Astride the Wind told the other kenku. To the mountains. To the heavy sky.
Borne on the Drafts and Embracing the Clouds beat their wings furiously as they passed the slowly sinking cloud of yellow-green poison and tore off in the direction of the mountains. Astride the Wind hung on a thermal and chattered a series of words passed from chief to chief. Bolts of blue-green energy burst from his chest and flashed through the sky faster than the fastest swift. Their path took them unerringly toward the hated enemy.
The human looked up from his soldiers and fixed his eyes on the onrushing missiles.
See them coming, slaver? Astride the Wind thought. The last thing your eyes will The archwizard held out a hand and the bolts of energy, which in Astride the Wind's experience had never failed to hit their mark, veered off and passed only a few inches from the man's blowing robes. The curve of their deflected path brought the missiles slamming into the face of the soldier with the gray in his hair. The soldier's head exploded in a burst of light and his body fell limply onto the deck of the flying boat.
Astride the Wind screamed in frustration and turned back to join Borne on the Drafts and Embracing the Clouds, the mountains now looming close ahead.
Well done, Chief, a voice echoed in Astride the Wind's head.
It couldn't be the human, Astride the Wind thought. But it is, was the man's response. Enemy! Astride the Wind raged back, not turning to look at the man.
The man sent a laugh into Astride the Wind's mind that tickled the kenku's throat.
Your father taught you well, Chief, the man persisted, as his father taught him, and his father taught him, back along the lines of your flea-speck generations to when I taught your savage ancestor the glory of the Weave.
In the name of what your father's father's father did to my people, Shade, Astride the Wind sent, I will send you back to the hell you've been It was me, Chief, the man interrupted. I live now as I lived then. For every spell you cast, for ever sorcery you inherit, I have a thousand more at my command. Only a savage like yourself, a low thing, would think it difficult to live a thousand years, or two thousand, or three.
Astride the Wind beat his wings rapidly to press farther on, his eyes glued to the prize ahead. If what this man claimed was true, his victory would be all the sweeter.
Do you not remember me, kenku? The man sent. Astride the Wind swallowed in a dry throat and saw in his mind's eye the paintings on the wall of the High Cave, the home of his people. The paintings were as old as the Soaring Heights Clan, and told the story of the city on the floating mountain, the soldiers in their flying boats, the misery of servitude, and the disappearance of the hated city just before its neighbors were thrown to the unforgiving ground by the hand of a dying goddess. They remembered. They all remembered. Ahead the blackening air above the ragged mountains beckoned. Astride the Wind flew faster, and Borne on the Drafts and Embracing the Clouds were alongside him.
You are certain, Astride the Wind? Borne on the Drafts asked, a wave of uncertainty accompanying the thought. Astride the Wind did his best to transfer a sense of purpose and confidence, but he couldn't feel if Borne on the Drafts took it all in or not. We are our only hope, he added.
Borne on the Drafts's shiver sent a tremble through the air. Whirling on High was his older brother, born in the same mother's nest three years before. And Whirling on High was still spiraling, inert, to a dismal, lonely death on the desert sands below.
Astride the Wind felt a wave of heat pass up his back and he dropped a couple feet to let whatever it was pass. There was a flash of orange light in front of him-an oblong bolt of fire as long as his forearm had rocketed over him. He glanced back and saw several more arcing toward he and his comrades from the outstretched hands of the Enemy. A bolt of flame narrowly missed Embracing the Clouds and another passed within a handspan of Astride the Wind. Borne on the Drafts cawed when one caught the hem of his tunic and singed it, nearly setting the garment ablaze.
He means to burn us! Borne on the Drafts sent, the thought edged with panic.
I mean to get your attention, hatchling, the man replied, the alien voice like stagnant water in Astride the Wind's mind. It has been a long time, but there is much to do now, and Shade Enclave requires the efforts of all those who serve her now or served her then. You are recalled. Blood boiled in Astride the Wind's feathered head. You ask us to fly into your chains merely because you wish It? And I thought your hateful arrogance mere legend.
The kenku heard the Enemy laugh in both his mind and ears.
I offer you the opportunity to participate in the refounding of the greatest empire this world has ever known. If that's arrogance, then so be it.
Astride the Wind, Borne on the Drafts sent, the thought jittery and unsure, are you certain? If what you said is true, then…
Speak it, hatchling, Kaeralonn prodded. Astride the Wind realized that he and Borne on the Drafts had been circling, the boat gaining on them rapidly. He glanced at Embracing the Clouds, now circling himself some fifty yards or more closer to the roiling, gray mountain air.
The mountains, brothers, Embracing the Clouds urged. Come with us, Borne on the Drafts, Astride the Wind sent. This human would own you. He has nothing to offer us but misery. Come.
But he made us… Borne on the Drafts replied, the young kenku's eyes fixed on the rapidly approaching boat. He gave us what we…
Astride the Wind looked back at Borne on the Drafts as he came around the far end of the circle he was making in the air. The boat was moving with a purpose toward Borne on the Drafts, who twisted in the air and brought his own gentle arc closer to the vessel. Kaeralonn smiled through his scars with a toothy, feral grin. With a curve of one wing, Astride the Wind broke his gentle circle and dived toward Borne on the Drafts, racing the flying boat to his confused, frightened, overwhelmed clanmate. Kaeralonn reached out a hand to Borne on the Drafts, who was passing slowly down toward the boat, his wings ballooned out at his sides to slow his descent. Astride the Wind tucked his wings in tight and reached out with his free left hand to grab for Borne on the Drafts's rustling tunic.
The soldier with the crooked teeth leaned far over the rail of the boat, holding his black sword out in front of him. Astride the Wind, too intent on grabbing Borne on the Drafts out of the way of the Enemy, flew dead into the blade. The sword bit deeply into Astride the Wind's side, but he managed to spin in the air so that the fine edge clicked off a rib.
The maneuver saved his life but made it impossible to grab Borne on the Drafts. Astride the Wind let himself fall a few feet, trailing a spray of blood and looking up. The boat eased past the slowly descending Borne on the Drafts, and the archwizard's fingers brushed the side of the young kenku's beak.
No! Astride the Wind screamed into the minds of friend and foe alike, but there was nothing he could do.
Borne on the Drafts's body stiffened at the touch and the light went out of his eyes. Like his brother, Borne on the Drafts began to fall, stiff and lifeless, to the dry ground below.
Kaeralonn made that hideous human sound they called a laugh and looked down at Astride the Wind. All I want is you this time, Chief, descendant of Amidst the Blue.
No! Astride the Wind screamed again. He shot both wings out to grab the air and turned away from the sight of Borne on the Drafts's falling corpse. With strength born of anger and revulsion, he beat his wings furiously against the uncompromising air and soared to meet the circling, impatient Embracing the Clouds.
We're alone, Embracing the Clouds, the kenku sent to his last comrade. The time has come to finish this.
