Introduction

An eagle rose and fell on the warm currents, keening its pleasure. It swooped over trees filled with inconsequential beings. It flew over the Great Plains of D'marti, the carnage that marked the unification of Lasrevinu long gone from the dry grass. The trees would grow again, but all this did not matter to the eagle—he flew above the land's struggles. His wings passed through Jacob Civet's vision and Jacob grimaced to himself. Why could the bird fly so high and safe? Scowling he continued his way through Adoweh blessed streets, nodding to himself at the clean stones that rang beneath his hard black boots. His black brows knitted together over stern gray eyes perched over a small but nice nose. Again his thin, pale lips pulled back in a silent snarl until he shook his head, short black hair not noticing the disturbance. This was not the time to indulge himself. Just yesterday he had found rumor of a Darkrunner, and, as a Brother of the Light, he was more than obligated to check it out. His scowl deepened as he remembered the squeaky little man who had come to tell Civet about the "nasty l'il blighter, sah". The man, his name was Mark d'Cornel?, had come running all the way to his office.

"Mr. Civet, er, M-master Civet! Y'must come now!"

"And tell me, good sir," Civet had said, not looking up from the papers he was tasked to process after last night's gallows trip, "What makes this so urgent that you throw all manners to the wind?"

The man had stood for a moment, unsure of what that meant, but a look form Civet had sent him straight to his knees, "Pardon me, good master, pardon me! But please! He's been terrorizing our household for months!"

Jacob sighed, "Leave your name and the location of this…Darkrunner…on my desk…."

The man had nearly tripped over himself scurrying out of the room. Jacob sighed and his scowl faded.

He had chosen this position and worked hard to get where he was. He prayed silently that this "little blighter" was not an unruly son. That had happened before and Jacob was not keen to have to punish someone over nothing. Stopping again, he looked for the eagle but it was gone.

***Sara Wilhelm screeched at a passing eagle, warning it away. The skies over Godot were hers. She wheeled and turned, dark brown wings touching the air gently. Spiraling graciously down on warm air, she sprang out of her peregrine falcon form and stood, green eyes watching the clearing behind her house carefully. She was tall for a woman, but many men topped her by a head, her hair was light brown and she wore it loosely held back with a clack ribbon at the nape of her neck, she wore breeches and a fine black and yellow coat—unusual for women but necessary. Even more unusual was the sword buckled to her hip, engraved with a wolf on one side and a weasel on the other. The wolf gave her guild—the civilian soldiers, she was one of the three women ever allowed in—the weasel was a reminder: a sword was only a tool and could be used by any who decided to pick it up.

A noise in the bushes startled her and she spun, hand on hilt, then released so fast it seemed she had not moved at all. She growled to herself as she saw a small bird fly out of the wood and sing a sweet song.

"Jumping at song birds?" she hissed to herself, "Gah!"

She turned on her heel and made her way to the city; her shift was near and she had a long way to trek.

***From her horse, Angela Richter looked out at the land, taking in every bit. An eagle cawed in the sky, she did not look up at it. She was a beautiful woman, if a little plump in the face. She wore a high-necked riding dress with split skirts. This may hat have been the place for such attire, but she was always modest. Vlad moved his horse near her, "Should we be going?" he suggested quietly.

He was a dark, small man with heavy eyebrows and milk chocolate eyes. Despite his stature he was wicked fast with his blade and deadly with his hands and feet. She looked at the werecat and felt his concern flash in the back of her mind for a moment and she frowned, "Scuro is a fair way behind us now, don't you think?"

"Not far enough." Vlad growled, his eyes glowing, "We should be back to Pretoria . They must hear—"

"I know Vlad, I know. Please, do you think I don't?"

"Sometimes Bachtera forget that they must protect themselves too.'

"And sometimes Zoran forget that Bachtera are not helpless."

Vlad chuckled then said very somberly, with the air of a man that has repeated himself many times, "But a single arrow can kill even you."

Angela threw back her head and laughed, "And same to you, old friend."

She used a small bit of Lichten to pinch his bottom, shoving her fists into her mouth to keep from laughing as the werecat shouted and clasped his bottom. They continued on toward Pretoria, Angela all the while becoming more and more somber, the news from Kano, a river city in Scuro, was not good.

***A wolf leaped out of the sparse underbrush that covered the nearly barren Iceland of Helinvard. His teeth were cared in a long toothed snarl that seemed to warm the air around the beast. A small, innocuous looking man ran in front of the wolf, laughing as his heels danced inches from the terrible teeth.

Suddenly, the wolf stopped short. The man had disappeared again! Grinding his teeth, the wolf threw back his head and howled, the wind rippling his dark gray fur. A squirrel froze in its tracks upon a tree branch, watching the mournful wolf cautiously. Before those beady black eyes a man replaced the wolf, sitting on his haunches, slightly salted black hair moved slightly in the cold air, his face was dark, nearly black in its chocolate hue, and it made his golden eyes jump out of their sockets at the world. He rubbed his sharp, pointed nose, growling at the ground.

Captain Grant Kar stood, running a slender, long-fingered hand through his hair and resting the other lightly on his hilt, "I'll get you yet, Newt, if it's the last thing I do!" he sighed and stretched lazily, "Adoweh, I wish I knew how he could disappear like that, scent and all." He walked back towards civilization, not looking forward to his task ahead. A family had been killed and the only survivor needed to be seen to. Adoweh! This would be a long day.

The squirrel watched him leave and gave a shudder before dropping out of the tree, stone dead. The small man sat on the branch, swinging his feet back and forth, singing softly, "O, Granty Grant Kar, you'll never get me. I own all the animals in the trees. They die for me because of you. Someday I'll kill you too! O, Granty Grant Kar…."

***Swords clashed in the morning air, followed by grunts and wheezes. A small cluster of Fledglings gathered around two bare-chested, sweating men. One was tall and pale, the other short and ruddy. The tall man had a shock of light brown hair, nearly ash, sticking up every which way, his gray green eyes staring straight at the smaller man. For all the other man's lack in height, he was fluid, moving from one form to the next seeming to be the sword. The only sign of fatigue on the man's face was a slight tightness around his dark brown eyes. On his right arm was a golden tattoo of a falcon flying over a single flame, the mark of a Zoran. His name was Sa'lan Grom and he was the blade master in Pretoria. The younger man had only the flame tattooed on his arm. His name was Alex Nico and he was winning.

He was fighting for the right to have the falcon tattooed over the flame, as soon as he won that right he only needed a Bachtera to claim him and he would be zoran.

The two men locked hilts and the youngster smiled, leaning forward to finish, but the older man deftly danced back, using Alex's forward momentum to set him off-balance. Ale fell and, using the split second between him and the ground, he twisted, snapped his legs toward his chest, catching Sa'lan's legs, and brought his sword up. When the dust settled, Alex's sword tip quivered an inch from Sa'lan's throat, both lying on their sides. Sa'lan smiled and rose, reaching down to help Alex up.

"Great job, Nico. Only you would have the audacity to trip your commanding officer. : He clapped the young man on the shoulder, "You've passed, young Fledgling. You'll get your falcon soon."

Alex grinned at the older man and left to change and shower.