Nic found himself in a dark, high-ceilinged room made of stone. He tried to see but it was difficult; there were no candles, no windows – no, wait, there were windows, but they were too high and small to permit any real light.  He found himself straining to see, which struck him as strange. Shouldn’t a dream be clear? This one could use a few candles.

 

Still, he felt reasonably sure that it was Rafe he saw over there, leaning against the cold wall, sitting on the equally cold floor, holding a sleeping Melli.  Nic sensed hunger and thirst. He was reminded of the dream he had shared with Lycan; he hoped his brother was not reduced to eating raw mice. Although if the choice were between that and starving...he knew what his choice would be.

 

The scene changed abruptly.  Another view, this time just Rafe, at least, it looked like Rafe. Nic was discouraged to see how much longer his brother’s hair was, how threadbare his clothes were and  how thin his limbs looked. Surely they would rescue his brother before that much time passed! His gut twisted as his mind processed the possible reasons for Melli to be missing from this part of the vision – few of them were good. He couldn’t see them rescuing one without the other. Much more likely that the physically frailer Telepath was not able to survive – no, he would not permit his mind to travel that path.

 

Nic forced himself to examine the vision for details that he could report to Colin and Michael. Doing so, he saw that the room was different than in the first scene.  This one lacked even the small windows that the other had, but since it was lit by a single candle, it was easier to see the contents of the room.  Was it a vision, then, or merely a dream, subject to his will, Nic wondered.  He decided to leave that to Colin’s more experienced mind, and continued to look for clues. A cot had been placed alongside one stone wall. There was a visible door, unlike the other room, which had appeared to have no means of egress now that he thought of it. Its walls had been smooth and unmarked but for the small windows high up, too high and small for anyone to escape through them.

 

Anyone but a small bird. Nic filed that thought away for further examination.

 

This room was dirtier, rougher, despite the presence of the cot and table. He wondered why Rafe was on the dirty ground instead of on the cot. It was far from clean but it had to be better than the hard, no doubt cold floor. He had his answer when he saw a hand dart out and grab something from under the cot.  A small, wiggling something. With a bowed head, the person on the floor ended the small creature’s struggling with a sharp twist of its neck.

 

That wasn’t Rafe, Nic knew with a certainty. The first figure had been Rafe, the one holding Melli close, but the one with longer hair and thinner body, who was reduced to eating stray mice, and even then, giving thanks for such meager food....

 

Nic was that man.

 

With the realization, Nic wasn’t sure if his dominant emotion was relief that it wasn’t Rafe...or fear that it was a portent of much worse.

 

****************

 

Lycan was surprised to find Nic awake and up before him – he’d learned that his mate was not fond of early morning as a personal preference, although his training had often required rising before the sun so he did it. Not without complaining though, Lycan thought with a smile. He would never tell, but he enjoyed his mate’s grumbling. Nic’s manner of complaining was as amusing as a bard’s performance.

 

Not this morning, however. The first rays of sunlight were enough to brighten the campsite, but they did nothing to remove the heavy shadows that darkened Dominic’s face as he stared into the embers of the dying fire. Lycan walked up and took his place beside him on the log bench.

                                                                                   

“You are troubled.”

 

Nic leaned against him. “I wish I could speak with my Advisor...really speak with him. I should have studied geography harder when he tried to teach it to me.  Rafe is the one who knows it and I always counted on having him near to tell me what I needed to know, which was something I was scolded for doing, of course. I was supposed to learn it on my own. Now, due to my laziness, I have no real sense of where we are, where they are, how long it will take for them to get to me or....”

 

“Ask Ran to send someone.”

 

Nic blinked. “I am so stupid. I didn’t think of that.”

 

Lycan grinned. “You’re not stupid. But you do tend to think you have to do everything alone now that your brother is not by your side – you need to think more like a member of a pack. Your father taught you to be self-sufficient, which is good, but you’re not alone anymore. Neither is he. You have allies ready to help you, let us help.”

 

Nic nodded. “Michael anticipated using your help in specific ways but there are so many more ways we can benefit from your skills. I don’t think he realized how a pack works – even between a Leader and his Pack. He had only the model of the King and the Assassin, standing alone against enemies, protecting their people who did nothing in return for that protection. By the goddess, they actively worked to hide how they protected their people! All of the Telepaths did. It is no wonder we were so easily overthrown.”

 

Before Nic could become further distracted by thoughts of the past and the mistakes made then, Lycan brought him back to the present. “I see Ran overhead, would you like me to request his presence?”

 

“Can you show me how to do it?” Nic asked. Lycan was glad to see that the brightness was back in his violet eyes.  He grinned as he stood up.

“Sure. You just do this,” he said, as he cupped his hands to his mouth, and, pitching his voice to carry the quarter league high that Ran was flying, he made a unique sound. It fell somewhere between a howl and a caw, Nic decided. When his mate looked down at him with an expectant smirk, he ignored the many Metamorphs who were getting up, awakened by the call, and took the implicit challenge.

 

Big sound, he willed, and then combined his gift for mimicry with his illusion magic to duplicate the sound – and make it even louder and more carrying. The lazily flying Raven Master paused in mid-flight, and then swooped down to them at top speed, morphing to his man form upon landing.

 

“What is the emergency?”  Ran stood straight, tense, arms out slightly, as though still ready to take flight at a word.

 

Lycan put a pacifying hand out, though he was careful not to touch the volatile Raven Master.

 

“Let us walk to a more private place to discuss – there was need for your assistance, Raven Master, though perhaps not the critical emergency need that was expressed.”

 

Nic looked at Lyc, “Didn’t I do it right?”

 

Ran looked closely at both men. “The King made the second call?”  Nic nodded, and was about to apologize but Lycan’s voice in his head said, wait.

 

“Then perhaps there is good cause. You made the call for an immediate, critical response, from one Leader to another. Look around – Beren, Elkind, they too stand ready to assist. Let us dismiss our people and confer. Have Bran bring food, if you will, Lycan, he can tell one of my wives to bring drink for us.” Lycan nodded.

 

Feeling slightly dazed by the way matters were swiftly proceeding, but grateful for someone else taking the lead while he sorted out his vision or dream – whatever it was – Nic followed the older men to the cliff area he and Elkind had used for privacy the night before.

 

“What has changed?” Ran asked bluntly, once they were settled and breaking their fast. Ran’s First Wife, Rena, stayed with them, as did Bran.

 

“Rena works with many of the other flocks, the smaller ones,” Ran explained briefly. “She’ll have more knowledge of what they can accomplish than I do. You can trust her as you can trust me.”

 

Nic nodded, accepting that. The polygamy of the Raven Master had been explained to him by Bran. Ran mated every spring with a new young bride. Afterward, he kept an almost paternal eye over the women who bore his many children, but he happily saw them “wed” to another partner, who then stayed with them. Rena was the exception. While not the wife of his youth, that mate having long since passed on, she was the First Wife, his Alpha among his flocks, and she served as his second in command. They had only one offspring, a son, who had been missing for several summers now and was feared dead. It was a great sorrow as Ren had been expected to take over as Raven Master when Ran stepped down. Although it was his duty to select and train a new heir, Ran had refused to do so.  

 

So different from the Emory way, Nic had thought, where a father not only planned for his heir, but also for a spare.  While he was reflecting, Lycan answered for him. He was glad his mate seemed to sense his distress this morning and was naturally taking over without needing to be asked, yet always without usurping Nic’s place.  Metamorphs handled everything so much more easily than Telepaths, he was beginning to think.

 

“Nic has had a vision that tells him the danger is imminent. Can you find out where his Advisor and the Assassin are?” Lycan asked.

 

“Easily done,” Ran nodded. “I should have thought to do that when you said last night that they would be approaching Candone today. I will send strong fliers out as soon as we finish here. Anything else?” He looked at Nic expectantly, as though knowing there was something more. The woman Rena also watched closely. She was petite, with almond shaped eyes that glittered with almost an iridescent light. They could be mesmerizing, Nic thought, as he forced his gaze away. He spoke slowly, describing to the group what he had seen – leaving out the second part of the vision. He concluded:

 

“I believe my brother and sister are being held in the chamber I saw. I had the sense that it is high in the air, with only very small windows and no visible door. The windows are only the size of my forearm,” he said, holding up his well-muscled arm. “Could any of your Metamorphs gain entry into such a room?” He added unnecessarily, “It would be very dangerous.”

 

Ran spat and gave Nic one of his satirical looks. “You think? Dangerous? Sounds like flying into the eye of the storm...and I’m wishing I were a bit smaller in my raven form so I could do it! But I fear I’m a bit too large?”

 

Ran swiftly transformed to his raven form and then back to his man form, almost in the time it took to blink an eye. He really did seem to be looking hopefully at Nic as he awaited the verdict on whether he could undertake the dangerous mission. But Nic was shaking his head.

 

“Definitely too large. Plus, I have no idea what type of watch might be outside, and you would be very noticeable against white stone, which is what it is on the inside, at least, that’s what it appears to be. A nondescript bird would be better, one small enough to just slip in unnoticed.”

 

“Sturn could do it,” Rena said, surprising the men with her sudden entry into the conversation.

 

Nic looked inquiringly at her. She reminded him of Melli and Magda, not in looks, but in her direct manner of speaking. She didn’t put herself forward until she had something to say. But then she said it, without fuss.

 

“Who is this Sturn?” Lycan asked. “Is he here?”

 

Ran answered, impressing Nic with his knowledge of his flocks. “He is. His Metamorph form is that of a starling. Rena is accurate, as always; he is not only the right size, but also has the strength and the smarts for a task like this. The only thing is....”

 

“What? If there is something wrong with him, we can’t risk using him,” Bran jumped in with the difficult question, though Nic sensed that he did so with Lycan’s approval. Bran served much as Rafe had been trained to do for Nic, doing or saying the things that needed to be done or said but which would be politically more delicate if done by the King.

 

“Down puppy,” Ran said, unperturbed by Bran’s interruption. Lycan’s nod to Bran was almost imperceptible, but his Beta settled back down in his seat, from which he’d jumped up when he’d interrupted the Raven Master.

 

“Sturn is a brave one, no denying that, but what I was about to say before being interrupted,” Ran paused to give Bran a look of reprimand –which didn’t have any visible effect that Nic could see,  but he sensed that there were all sorts of undercurrents going on. Perhaps the Metamorphs weren’t all that different after all. Nic wished they would simply get to the point – Rafe and Melli were in danger and he wanted information on their prison – but Colin had taught him to respect the ways of other people. Especially when asking favors.

 

Ran directed his attention back to Nic, seemingly appeased by something he saw in Bran that was invisible to Nic.

 

“Nondescript is not quite how one would describe our Sturn, though he would suit the job at the distances involved, and to the normal man’s eye when in his bird form. Thing is, he can be arrogant, brash – he will want you to ask him directly. I could force the issue as his Master, but he is a Captain over his own large flock of Metamorphs from down South. I wouldn’t like him to feel insulted if it could be avoided.”

 

Nic felt that he was being tested by Ran once more. He let his instincts guide him, not having time to weigh the situation. “I would wish to meet with all of the Metamorphs you recommend for both tasks.  Those who seek my Advisor and Assassin on their sailing vessel may find their flight the more dangerous if they encounter the Authority’s ships. Is Sturn the only choice for seeking out the tower or can you present me with a choice for the mission?”

 

Nic could feel the sense of approval coming from Lycan. It helped him to continue; although he was ready to do so without it. He found it was a wonderful thing to have Lycan’s solid support at his back and in his mind.

 

“I will make my decision after meeting your people, Ran, although your recommendations are invaluable and I thank you for your offer. I ask that you present to me the Metamorphs you recommend for the mission at sea, and if there are more than Sturn for the mission of seeking my brother and sister, I would like to see them as soon as possible.”

 

“A good plan,” Elkind said. Beren nodded. Ran smiled slowly. He spoke in his own language to Rena, who morphed into her Raven form and flew away.

 

While she was gone, Nic listened to advice from Elkind and Beren, both of whom had been less vocal the day before. After another night’s thought, both of them had ideas that improved upon the plans the group had tentatively made the night before. The five of them discussed and refined the plans – arguing too. Michael and Rafe would love this, Nic thought, while Colin would soak it all up and in the end come up with a brilliant plan that incorporated the best of all their ideas.

                                                                                                                                   

How he wished they were there. Michael would be tossing Ran off the cliff the first time he spit, he thought fondly. Good thing Ran was a bird Metamorph.

 

Soon, Rena was back, two smaller birds flying by her side. They landed at the base of the semi-circle the leaders sat in. Somewhat to Nic’s surprise, one of the smaller birds morphed into a tall, well built man, with blue black hair and bright blue eyes. He looked boldly at Lycan and Bran, but then his gaze fell upon Dominic. His interest flared and he practically thrust himself forward, only a sharp clicking noise from Ran making him pause.

 

That one is looking to get his wings clipped. Lycan’s thought wasn’t particularly annoyed as it projected to Nic – he was just stating a fact. Nic was beginning to understand Pack dynamics better – not every insult warranted Lycan’s personal attention. This one would probably only merit action by Bran, Lycan’s Beta, if it went too far. If Rafe were present, he would handle it for Nic, but Lycan was now Nic’s protector. Yet Lycan was also a Leader in his own right. So an insult to Nic, which was an insult to Lycan, would be handled by....?

 

Nic decided he had no time for such niceties. They were going to war.

 

“This man is not acceptable since he cannot control impulses that foolishly put him at risk,” Nic said crisply, adding a bit of telepathic power to suggest great disappointment and a touch of disgust. To his amazement, the cocky birdman did not back down even then, but took a step forward.

 

“Ah, but some treasures are worth any risk, My Lord. I am Sturn, and I vow on the honor of my flock that I will succeed in any task you set me...for the gift of a smile from your Lordship’s lips.”

 

“Let me kill him,” Bran suggested – Nic wasn’t sure whose permission he sought. He suspected it was Lycan’s, but it was the Raven Master who answered..

 

“Go ahead,” Ran muttered, spitting.

 

Before Sturn could speak again, Nic waved his hand at him, effectively silencing him. He turned toward the other Metamorph, who had watched Sturn’s antics with a worried frown. Rena had to push him forward since he didn’t seem to realize it was his time to speak.

 

With a sigh, Rena introduced him, saying, “May I introduce Hildebran...of the Western Starlings, Dominic. He volunteered to undertake any mission you have for our people.”

 

Her voice sounded skeptical. Nic watched her as she urged the younger Metamorph forward. He was of medium height, pleasant looking, but nowhere near as striking as the preening Sturn. His eyes were a soft amber, as was his hair, which he wore short and spiky.

 

She seems to dismiss him, yet she cares for him, Nic thought.

 

She should, Lycan replied, she is his sister.

 

Now understanding why Rena might be hesitant for him to select Hildebran, (even if he didn’t understand how a Raven Metamorph had a Starling Metamorph for a brother), Nic smiled encouragingly at the quiet man.

 

“I have need of a strong flier, who can make it to the very center of the Authority’s government buildings in Candone and seek a specific place without being detected. Once there, I ask that this flier be brave enough to enter this place as my spy and gather information, possibly morphing into his man form to obtain information from prisoners, and then to return to his bird form to fly back to us as quickly as possible, without rest. Can you do that, and more importantly, are you still willing to do this mission?  No shame or dishonor attaches to a refusal. On the contrary, I prefer an honest no over a promise of yes that cannot be kept.”

 

Nic could feel Sturn struggling against his silence spell – it was difficult to maintain against a Metamorph – but he kept his gaze fixed on the man whom he suspected was quiet by nature but more courageous at heart. The other leaders remained silent as Hildebran clearly weighed what he had been told. He looked into Nic’s eyes.

 

“I will do it, M’Lord. I have flown to Candone many times in the past, seeking information on missing family....” He didn’t look to his sister but he didn’t need to; everyone knew of whom he spoke. Nic found he liked this Hildebran more the longer he spent in his presence. “I know of a tower where a certain kind of prisoner, a powerful magical prisoner, would be kept. I can leave as soon as Master Ran gives his leave and assumes the leadership of my flock.”

 

How different from the other Metamorph, who offered up the honor of his flock, but did not concern himself with its safety.

 

“I’ll place myself over them, boy. You bring honor to all of us,” Ran said gruffly.

 

Nic walked forward and placed kisses on Hildebran’s cheeks, calling for the goddess’ blessing on his mission. And then he stunned all present as he went a step further. 

 

“Hildebran, of the Western Starlings, may the goddess bless your journey and guide you on your way. From this day, you who ask nothing will be honored by all in the House of Emory and Pack of Lycan, your flock will be our Pack and our House, and we will serve you as you serve us in our hour of great need.”

 

A light illuminated Dominic and Hildebran.  The Leaders only discussed it among themselves later, and to poor Sturn, it was as though a mist blocked Dominic and Hildebran from his view, but a magic wove between them, surrounding the young bird Metamorph with protective shields and sending power coursing through him. Into his mind, Hildebran heard Dominic’s voice telling him exactly what he needed to know about Rafe and Melli and what they needed to be told.

 

“Go with the goddess,” Dominic said quietly, stepping back as soon as he’d completed his telepathic message.

 

Ran nodded his approval, and with a mix of blessings following him, Hildebran morphed into his starling form and flew away. Feeling a more genuine distress from Sturn, Nic released his spell. The flashy birdman morphed immediately and took flight after Hildebran.

 

Elkind frowned. “Should someone chase him down?”

 

“He will come back in a moment. If he doesn’t, I will fetch him myself,” Ran promised.

 

Indeed, in less than a minute, they saw Sturn’s small figure heading back and Hildebran disappearing from view. Sturn landed at their feet, and prostrated himself before Dominic.

 

“He just wants to be super-charged like the other one,” Beren whispered to Bran. Ran glared and then spat, his sputum landing close to Sturn’s wing.

 

“Ran, I would really appreciate it if you direct that further away from my boots,” Nic commented, stepping to the other side of Lycan. “And Sturn, please turn back to your man form – if you wish to be given a second chance, that is. There is still another mission to be sent out.”

 

Beren and Bran laughed when the morphed Sturn found himself sitting in Ran’s spit. Even stately Elkind had to hide his smile behind his hand.

 

“Perhaps the Eagle and Falcon Metamorphs could be brought to join mighty Sturn,” Nic asked Rena politely, no trace of sarcasm in his tone.

 

 

****************

 

Colin stood at the bow of their vessel; he knew that Michael was aloft, balanced on the rigging, doing what he could do to aid Colin’s efforts. Except Fen at the helm, and Cena and Cera, in the cabin, the others were in the stern, getting the small rowboats ready in case they needed to make a quick escape.

 

The Authority’s ships were coming. Five large ones, armed and manned with fighters. Fortunately, Colin saw them in his scrying glass before they got too close for them to take evasive actions. They had been expecting the Authority to come after them soon, thanks to Dominic’s warning, but the size and speed of the attack force was....grim. The two men conferred telepathically as they considered their options.

 

It will be up to you, Colin. I will do what I can to aid you but the risk will be removing all of them without sending our own vessel to join them in a watery death.

 

That is my concern, Michael. I can summon a storm, but I wield only so much control over it. We need to stay ahead of it or all we’ll be doing is joining the ships in their doom. We need somewhere to go, somewhere to escape.          

 

As soon as I determine where that is, you will be the first to know.

 

Michael’s thoughts had their usual dry humor, but there was an undercurrent of tension. What would be an exciting adventure if it were just the two of them became a potential disaster with their young charges in their company. The decision had been made that they were ready – but what the mind believed and the heart accepted were not always aligned.  

 

Michael was trying to reach the minds of the men who sought them so that he could misdirect them, discourage them, fill their hearts with fear –   anything that might keep them away from their small sailing vessel. 

 

Colin was using his own, less subtle but no less powerful talent to aid their cause, as the gathering storm clouds and strong gusts of wind attested. Colin tried to forget that the man he loved more than life itself was clinging to the rigging overhead as he spoke the words to increase the winds and send the clouds whirling lower, with sheets of rain falling hard, as bolts of lightning flashed around them.

 

Michael, are you safe up there? I fear the storm will blow you out to sea....

 

Then I will dance on the wind, was the amused thought, sent to him with a bolt of courage that was much needed. Colin tried to summon the grim determination that had enabled him to send scores of men to their death at sea sixteen years ago. But he was a different man now than he had been then. Life held more meaning after one struggled to raise three children and guided two score more into adolescence. One no longer blithely sent any man’s son into a watery death – not if there were any other way.

 

We do if mercy means the deaths of our children – for them you will harden your hearts toward the sons of men who hunt us even if it is only at the orders of other men–we all do as we deem we must to protect our own.  The quiet whisper in his mind steeled his wavering heart. He stood taller and focused his mana, his voice deeper and stronger as he called upon the goddess to aid him with her wind and rain, and implored her to send the thunder god to pierce the decks of their enemies.

If they got too close.

 

If they get too close, Michael agreed. Blowing them far away from us is just as good for now–as long as you leave us a clear path to Dominic. Whichever way that would be.

 

The last thought was filled with frustration. But just as Michael was about to climb down to lend his strength to Colin on the deck, deciding that his sense that he belonged aloft had been wrong, his keen eyes picked up what seemed an impossible sight. A small bird appeared to be struggling against the storm, trying to make it to their ship. Two larger birds flew behind it but they were turning back, defeated by Colin’s gale force winds.

  

Michael gripped the rigging with one hand, while he shielded his eyes with the other. It looked like a...starling? He vaguely remembered seeing such birds when he was a boy in the First Kingdom, before he’d gone to live in the Second Kingdom. The larger birds were easily recognized by their dramatic wingspans – eagles. But it was their large wingspan that was causing them problems in such strong winds – they were being buffeted back while the smaller bird could take advantage of the very slightest shifts in currents. Michael marveled to watch it darting through the tempest, dodging lighting, being whipped hither and yon by the stronger gusts yet steadily progressing toward him.

 

Yet just about dead on the wing. Michael twisted his strong dancer’s legs into the ropes of the rigging and swung out, reaching with both hands, but more importantly, with his telekinetic powers.

 

You’ve done enough, Starling. I believe you’ve reached your journey’s end.

 

Michael sharply pulled the bird into his grasp before it could be struck by one of Colin’s lightning bolts that proceeded North toward the seeking ships. He cradled it close to his chest to warm it, as he swung by his legs against the sails.

 

By the goddess, Michael! I almost hit you with that lightning bolt!  You terrified me when I saw you let go like that! I thought you were falling!

 

So you thought to speed my end by roasting me? I must endeavor not to frighten you again, Michael teased, as he held the bird inside his wet shirt with one hand and used his free hand and legs to scramble down like a monkey.

 

You are coming down? Colin’s thought was relieved, if a bit confused. He had sunk two of the closest ships and three others had backed away but he knew that Michael was as aware as he was that those ships, and more, only waited for the storm to abate to continue the chase.

 

Yes. If I am correct, this brave little fellow is not an ordinary starling, but a messenger from our clever Dominic. I want to get down before I am clasping a full grown man to my chest – there is only one man I wish to hold close to me at this time and he is not a Metamorph.