Canfin was the village leader; tall and burly, he had been trekking for two days straight since recovering from the giant fireball that had fallen from the sky and destroyed his village. Unshouldering his pack, he sat down upon a boulder under the shade of a great tree. Pulling out his canteen, he sloshed water over his face and into his mouth.

They're counting on me to reach the next village, he thought wearily, producing a small cake of journeybread from another pocket. Biting into the tasteless biscuit, he tried to force all thoughts of the destruction from his mind. But the days had taken their tole on his spirit and he broke down, weeping upon the forest floor.

So many dead, so many maimed and ready to die!

A shadow passed overhead and Canfin looked up, for it was too large to be a bird. Wiping the grime and tears from his eyes, he was startled to see what it was: On slow wings, black as night with brightly-tipped pinions, a gryphon flew.

Jumping to his feet, Canfin shouted and on impulse, threw the journeybread at the creature. With a squawk, the gryphon pulled up in mid-stroke, beating its massive wings in an effort to hover. Bright, intelligent eyes burned into his own from behind a great meathook of a beak. The purple-tipped crest swept forward and back as the gryphon studied the village leader; its foretalons were clutched at its white breast as it contemplated. Suddenly, so fast that Canfin hardly had time to react, the gryphon stooped and he dove for cover.

"You call?" a voice boomed out. "You didn't have to hit me -- I heard you the first time."

Canfin peaked out from behind the tree that he'd just dived behind. "Ah! There you are!" the gryphon cried, stepping forward, corners of its beak pulled up in a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"P-please," he stuttered, "my village -- all in ruin --"

The gryphon's face changed to one of pity. Canfin found part of himself marveling at the human emotions that were so easily conveyed in raptorine features. "Oh, my friend, I have much sorrow for you. We too, have felt the blows of the meteorite." The deepness of the gryphon's voice got only lower as it proffered a taloned hand. "My name is Tagar." With the other, he -- for there was no doubt now -- placed it on his chest and gave a short bow. "I come from the Gryphon's Guild, several leagues from here."

The name rang true in Canfin's memory. He himself had told his son tales of the creatures from the legendary Guild, and now he was face to face with one of it's members! Hope rose in Canfin's breast -- here was where he would find his aid. Surely what they faced at that mountain held no flame to his village's condition.

"Please, sir," he begged the gryphon. "We need your aid."

More pity rose into Tagar's face. "I am dearly sorry, my friend; I cannot offer you that. I have said that we are in dire straights ourselves."

"Surely you can spare --"

An empathetic shake. "Even we of the Guild were denied aid from the Elven Nations, so I feel your want. I have flown over two such villages as yours -- all devastated. They, too, have begged aid of the Guild. It is not my decision, nor place, to promise what we may not be able to give."

Anger -- intense anger -- rose in place of hope. Without thinking, Canfin lunged at the gryphon, pack swinging. It caught Tagar on the flank as he moved to defend himself; claws balled as not to intentionally slash, he twisted with instinctual grace. Swiftly, he reached out with one hand and plucked the pack from Canfin's fingers.

"Enough!" the black gryphon roared, tossing the pack aside. He made as if to leap when a ringing, peculiar and lilting, sounded. Setting back down on his haunches, Tagar kept one eye on the exhausted Canfin as he reached into a hidden pouch about his neck and drew forth a curious object. It was a half-globe of some stone or metal, set into a golden base, dotted with a few buttons about the rim. Tagar placed it before him on the ground and settled down, pressing one of the odd buttons. Canfin was amazed to see a slit open in the top of the half-globe and emit a short beam of light that spread out in a fanning fashion. In that beam materialized another gryphonic head, this one blue, green and sporting a pair of mesmerizing pupilless orange eyes.

"Greetings to thee, StormWind."

"Have you completed your flight, Tagar?" There was a distinct feminine tone to the voice that came forth from the image's beak. Canfin wondered if it was truly this easy to tell male from female among the Kin.

Tagar nodded. "Aye, ma'am. As we feared, all three villages suffered devastation."

Stormy blanched. "Is that so?" she whispered, in shock. "We'll have to rethink our plans. This cannot be limited to us as it is with the Elven Nations. Tell any villages that you pass on your way back that the Guild has rethought its ways and is ready and able to procure any aid to the best of our limited abilities."

"Aye, ma'am. Tagar out."

The gryphon stood and placed the half-globe back where it had come from. He turned a knowing smile and a kind eye on Canfin. "Be you a lucky man, sir. Tell your villagers that they need expect Guilders. Hold your hearts!" With that, Tagar leapt into the air; he circled once about the small pocket of trees before loosening a farewell scree. Tilting his wings, he shot off with surprising speed back the way he'd come.

Dropping to his knees, Canfin let out a sigh of relief. Then, standing once more, he retrieved his pack and made his way back home.

In true Guild fashion, when Tagar cruised in towards the ruin of the great main ramp, there awaited him a list posted on all the walls of the Common Room. He neither questioned it nor looked at it until he had spoken with three of the four Admin. After relating his report, he joined his mate, the pumagryphoness Nambroth, at one of the Common Room walls:

RESCUE ONE -- it read in big, bold script -- Hosea Kittomer, Syris, LunaFlare, Fareme Foxwing, Talen EmeraldBlaze.

RESCUE TWO: Nauta and Khirsah Sinneau, Aakora, Luna Star, Blaze.

RESCUE THREE: Stormy Pillowgryph, Tagar, Nambroth, Almalthia na'Viren k'Rashna, SilverMoon Nyghtwing Realgar, Tephroliah Desepchine.

WEATHER WATCH: Aurora Starwing, Felio Ital, Keo Falconsong, Ursula Aurelia, SylvarWing, Darkflame Lupinus.

Questions were already flying -- where were many of the names of the famous Wings of last year? Of the Waves two years past?

"There are far too many still trapped within," said the seraph ludrakoni Illucian, nodding to their disbelieving faces. "It was decided that for the good of the Guild -- and thus the good of the rest of the area -- that we stay here and see to it that everything is returned to normal."

Aurora pointed to her name under the mysterious header of "Weather Watch." "I don't understand; what does this mean?"

Her answer came not from Lux or the other Admin, but Lux's mate, the bibliophile Eclipse. He held a book in one hand and his glasses in the other. He tapped the glasses on the small tome, gaining their attention.

"In my research, I came across a reference to a similar event about a thousand years or so ago. The first account was made days after the meteorite fell, by a decimated human kingdom. The second -- and by far more accurate -- was written by those of the Kin who also suffered extreme losses at the time. These chronicles give very graphic and very chaotic descriptions of storms caused by the meteorite's entrance into our atmosphere and the impact upon the earth. In this period, they did not have the unity we enjoy among the races, hence not the accumulation of mage-talent so honed to a particular task. Needless to say, they were long in recovery."

He paused to indicate each of the newly appointed Weather Watch. "It will be your task, then, to keep at bay and/or repel any such anomalies that occur due to this catastrophe. You all have great ability or affinity for the elements related to weather. Aurora for her total grip on weather magic, as well as you, Keo, and you, Sylvar. Ursula, you for your grasp on the water elementals; Felio, for your adeptness at manipulating wind; Darkflame, not only are you needed here for your teleportation, but for your control over lightning."

"But so do I," said LunaFlare; she was only half-protesting, due to her placement in Rescue One.

"And I," chimed Almalthia.

"Your talents are best used to where you have been assigned." All heads turned to see the tall golden form of Crystal; her voice resonated over the Common Room and everyone became hushed. "Believe me, if we were able to put you all into a unit, we would. But the fact of the matter is, those who were placed were there for a reason." There was a slight catch in her tone and some swore she winced at an unknown pain. "All serve the Guild, whether or not you bear a designation such as Wave, Wing or Rescue." With that, Crystal turned and all saw the blood-soaked bandage encircling her right leg. Wet with the ivory lifeforce of her race, it soon became apparent that Crystal had been injured and chosen not to seek the flames that would heal her. She would heal naturally, and with her fellow Guilders; this Ambassador was a testament to the sympathy she felt for her family.

And when they saw her slip off, Changing from Phoenix to gryphon form, and into the soothing arms of her mate, none thought that the tears upon her cheeks were of a different nature entirely.

RESCUE ONE

"I told you -- I don't need a harness!"

Fareme's gentle, yet firm, talons smoothed the brace back into place, tucking the padding under the soft calf's skin. "I've never questioned the leadership of our Admin," she said a little testily, "but sending you along with us in your state!" The tiny Vulpegryph Healer shook her head and heaved a sigh. "Speed-Healing is never a good thing."

Syris clacked her beak. "I have to go, Fareme. You know as well as I --"

Fareme cut her off with a slash of her hand. Clambering down her fellow Vulpegryph's back, she faced her charge. "I am aware that we have few able-bodied Guilders and it is necessary to send those with wounds, but I would dearly like to know what madness crept into their heads to allow one such as you to exert yourself with that!" She jabbed at the bandages covering much of Syris' firefox fur. Fareme shook herself and caught the hurt in Syris' eyes; she softened. "Hon, wear the harness and I will not restrict you any further than I see would cause much harm to your battered body."

She nodded. "Aye. But you'll let me help out when we get there?"

"Of course. I'd never deny a Guilder that."

As they made their way towards the end of the main ramp, LunaFlare came hobbling out on three legs, her wounded one swathed in a new bandage. She, too, had been subjected to speed-Healing, but of her own design and not of the Admin's concern. While it may have seemed ludicrous to allow those such as LunaFlare and Syris out, Fareme was right in her statement that there were so few who remained unscathed. To deny those with slight injuries the right to help was not the object.

Hosea and Talen were already discussing flight plans when the three females approached.

"Are you riding?" Talen queried, straightening his tunic. The anthrogryph then tightened a strap on his belt, adjusting the pouches that hung there. He was responsible for several tools that only those with humanoid hands could work, should they have to start digging or attempt a rescue mission that required such.

Syris nodded and Talen gestured to one of the newbies, who skittered inside. A moment later, a brightly-colored tigergryphoness came out with a pile of leather on her back.

LunaFlare gaped: "What is that?"

Calypte Gunner, the tigergryphoness, grinned. "This is a dragon harness. We're going to strap it on Hosea for Syris. It's collapsible and easily stored in a pack. See?" With a few twists, Caly deftly displayed a compact bundle of leather; with another few such motions, she held it out. "Poof! Like magic." She grinned and moved over to Hosea, who inclined his neck and fore.

Throwing the straps over the big male, Talen caught them on the other side; in short order, the two gryphons had him ready for flight. And so was Rescue One.

RESCUE TWO

Luna Star was a silver and black gryphoness who possessed the kind of fearless attitude shared by most of her fellow Guilders. However, on this day, that was slipping away. There was not a Guilder in the mountain who's personality called for brashness that did not feel a solemnness to their duty.

An errant breeze ruffled her pinions and she checked them automatically, correcting her flight with the others of Rescue Two, on their way to their village. However, Blaze -- an orange gryphon with a peculiarly occupied statement on his face -- was not paying attention and slipped in formation, banking towards the Sinneaus. He was fiddling with a contraption on his left wrist, called a "watch," and did not seem to notice Khirsah Sinneau until he ran headlong into the mate of their leader, Nauta.

Such an odd fellow, Luna Star thought in the moment before. Everyone in the formation heard the trumpet of the big red male dragon that was Khirsah as the two collided. His ears pinned back and he pulled upright, halting their flight. Aakora nearly ran into Nauta, who spun about on her pinions, normally-placid features screwed up into one of controlled anger. Her tail, tufted like a dolphin's flukes, whipped back and forth in the air.

"What is going on here?" she demanded, wings flared. They were hovering above unoccupied countryside, so there was no one to overhear their conversation.

"N-nothing," mumbled Blaze, tapping his wrist distractedly.

"What do you mean?" rumbled Khirsah. The red male's ears were still pinned and his eyes were narrowed. "You almost knocked me out! Can't you keep your eyes and brain focused for one moment!?" He flapped closer to Blaze, who didn't pay any heed to the smoke curling from the dragon's nostrils. Suddenly, Aakora popped in-between the two, hands held out.

Heads swung to pin on the spotted female; she faced them all, face set in grim determination, arms crossed. "Do any of you know anything about Blaze?" she demanded, piercing them all with a glare. "Anyone?" Blank looks met her eyes; Blaze fiddled with one of his ubiquitous green eartags, looking off into the distance. "Well, I at least had the common sense to ask the Admin and mods about my fellow Rescue members," Aakora continued, venom dripping into her tone at their callousness. "I asked Stormy and Lux about Blaze and they said that he was very good at tech-techi-techical -- things." She paused, and her face lost a bit of her anger, replaced with something that resembled embarrassment. "They also said . . ." She looked helplessly at Blaze.

"It's 'technical,' " he corrected absently, tonelessly. Slowly, he raised his head and met each of his fellows' eyes with his own. "Since Aakora has defended me, I shall take the burden from her shoulders and tell you myself." He paused and spoke again, this time each word was carefully and deliberately pronounced. "Do you think I like being distracted? I think not; I'll tell you why this is so, but I'll ask you a question first. How would you fare if your brain was taken apart piece by piece over the course of a week and then reassembled in a slightly different order because those who were responsible didn*t give a damn about their 'creation'? How would you fare if you were hooked up to electrodes and given electrical shocks directly into your head? Tell me, do you like having tubes stuck up your ass in the name of science?"

Silence.

There was a slight choking gurgle from Khirsah, but all remained quiet -- shocked. "I -- I didn't know. I -- I'm sorry, Blaze." But the orange male wasn't listening; from a pouch about his ruff, he pulled a map and then consulted his "watch." "We*re off course about 2.5 degrees," he note, pointing in the right direction.

Nauta shot a near-murderous glance at her mate and nodded to Blaze. "Let's get going, then, shall we?"

With thundering beats, Rescue Two continued on their flight toward the village of Cedarford. Luna Star angled herself next to Aakora; the black and white female canted an eartuft, as she suspected a hushed conversation.

"Uh, what else did the Admin tell you?"

"Well, you heard what he had to say about being an experiment, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, because of that, Blaze isn*t just distracted, he's . . ." Aakora paused for a moment, searching for the right way to broach the subject. "Well, he's a bit crazy, and susceptible to pyromania."

Her companion blinked. "Oh."

RESCUE THREE

Canfin's villagers did not know what to make of the six Guilders who landed in various spots about the smoldering square. Of all of them, only SilverMoon -- by far the largest Guild dragon, save her mate and Dracana -- had to land outside the village and able in, her wings and tail under tight control. After the immediate surprise died down, the injured and the dying were heaped upon them, as if the villagers considered them holy paladins from heaven. They were taken out of what remained of the houses and planted gently at the astonished and horrified Guilders' feet. Poor, gentle Nambroth took one look at a sudden amputee and dashed off to be quietly sick. Almalthia and SilverMoon paired off, sharing power as they Healed what they could after such a long flight.

Already, the sun was setting; fires still burned after all this time, and Tagar, a recovered Nam (outfitted with an anti-nausea spell by SilverMoon) and Tephra scouted while Stormy conversed with the villagers. Winging high above the flame-ensconced ancient wood, the three sought to stave off the incredible heat that arose in massive waves. Fur and hair curled as it was drenched in sweat and then dried almost at the same time. The mouth ran dry, eyes squinted and blinked as moisture was lost.

"Higher!" Nambroth shouted, voice crackling and breaking as she tried to lift above the roar of the chaos-flames.

Of the three, Tagar suffered the most -- his black coat absorbed much of the heat, and his circled slowly so as not to shock his system by going from hot to cold too soon. Tephroliah's white pelt helped, but not as much as thought. Being arctic-based, she welcomed the soothing coolness against raw senses.

"It's spreading too far," Tagar observed as they hovered side-by-side.

Tephra and Nambroth followed his pointing talon as he indicated the areas. "But not as fast as you'd expect," Tephra murmured, noting the fierceness with which the flames moved.

"You think that the Weather Watch has this one?" Nambroth's eyes were squinted with worry.

Tephra shook her head. "No, no; I don't think so. I think we're just very, very lucky this isn't going as fast as it should."

"We'll grab the Tsurieth from Stormy when we get back to the village," Tagar said; one after the other, they turned and angled back to the ruins.

Flames licked at their heels, but they were too high up to feel but a waft of too-warm air upon their bellies. The created thermals aided their flight, speeding them along back to their destination quickly. Upon reaching Stormy, who was cere-deep in beleaguered villagers, they made their report.

"How long until it reaches us -- or consumes the whole of Pendrake Forest?"

Nam and Tagar turned to Tephra, who seemed to be an expert. "A few days, maybe; perhaps more if the weather stays the way it is."

"Could we have the Weather Watch bring stormclouds in?" queried SilverMoon from where she sat, her paws stained red by human blood. She looked up from where she was fixing the severed arm of a young boy. The remaining piece of the child's limb lay nearby. Both Alma and SilverMoon were working in tandem and as quickly as possible -- Alma with conventional tools, such as needle and thread, SilverMoon with her inner powers -- to save the human's arm. Drawing on what little there was of the moon, SilverMoon glowed in unearthly fashion, much to the amazement on the villagers.

Stormy nodded, looking all about her; she noted the faint -- but thickening -- smoke in the air. "Aye. That may be our only hope in quelling these fires."

Copyright 2002 Melissa Hartman/Crystal Shekeira. All Guilders are © themselves; all other names, places and events are copyright MH. Kalaki Moroko is copyright TH. Do not alter, copy or distribute in any way.