"And there came the day of terrible storms, such as none of us had ever laid eyes on . . ."

RESCUE TWO

To keep yourself sane if faced with a torrent of pain, she'd once heard, the trick is to concentrate solely on the area of no pain. As of this moment, she could almost name the exact location -- and if it continued, perhaps identify the very nerve that did not feel as if liquid fire had been poured into her veins. Three inches from the base of my tail . . . fif-- no, no, sixth hair in . . .

Concentrate harder, her ravaged brain whispered as her beak grate with the renewal of pain. Nauta's whimpers must have been audible this time, for one of the village women hurried up to her bed. The goodwife reached by the bedside and poured from a clay pitcher to an equally clay mug; into this she placed a clean river reed, slipping the opened end into the gryphoness' mouth. Commanding her body to sip, her mind too dazzled by pain to acknowledge the foul, metallic taste that stung her tongue, Nauta drew the concoction through the reed and down into her throat. Almost immediately as it hit her stomach, the brew flew through her system, dulling all pain. For the first time in a long time, Nauta was free to think of things other than that infinitesimal part of her that didn't hurt.

"Ch-ch--"

The woman used the back of two fingers to sooth the marine gryphoness' too-warm brow with the care of a mother. "Hush, gentle one, one of your friends are here," she said in a low tone, "they will tell you all about the child." With a final, maternal kiss, the goodwife departed, taking the tray that held both mug and pitcher with her. Pausing to hold open the bedroom door, she left. Who came into the room was not whom Nauta expected. Instead of a slim, red, eared dragon, a silver gryphonic visage peered about the door well. Catching her awake, Luna Star smiled broadly and padded in on equally-padded feet -- talons torn by massive masonry. **How're you feeling?** Luna asked via telepathy, assuming correctly that it was the least-painful way of communication for her leader.

Nauta would've snorted, had it not shot bolts up her nares and into delicate sinuses. She managed a semi-painful wheeze. **You know the answer.**

Luna smiled sympathetically and perched on the bedside chair, tail dangling though the back rungs. She crossed her forearms on the coverlet and lay her head down by Nauta's swathed form. **Aye, I do, but it never hurts to ask.**

**But it hurts to answer.**

**Do you want the curtains drawn?** the diamond-chested female asked, gesturing to the heavy drapes that hung opposite the bed. Change of topic was very appropriate at this moment, she decided.

Tried to nod, but failed. **Yes . . . please,** Nauta whispered. **Need light.**

Nodding as well, Luna Star hopped off the chair with a slight grimace as hard-packed earth hit her tender talons. Ambling over, she carefully pulled back the worn wool curtains. Warm, golden sunlight filtered in, bathing the bandaged and swaddled gryphoness in all its glory. Nauta's eyes closed in utter bliss, reveling in the pure, unadulterated feeling of it all. One takes for granted the power of this orb's simple existence, she thought . . . that is, until one no longer has access to it. Such appreciation is never lost, no matter how long one lives after that incident. Nauta was no exception: she basked in the motes of dust and dander dancing so gayly in the shafts of splendor. So taken with this rebirth that one thought nearly escaped her mind --

**The child?**

**Mother and child send their complete and total gratitude,** her companion replied immediately, taking back her pose by the bed.

Nauta sighed with relief and let herself go slack amongst the covers. **Then she is all right?**

Luna smiled brightly. **Oh aye! A few scrapes here and there, nothing serious . . .** Her mindvoice wavered and the took on a graveness. **Your body took the full force.**

The cetan gryphoness rolled a liquid eye at her body, appraising her condition. **I should say so.** Now that she knew that the child was all right, the gaiety and humor had returned to her voice; on the outside, she no longer looked haggard and dull. **Better mine for hers anytime. My life has been lived long, her*s has yet to begin.**

Her companion shook her head, eyes filling; such self-sacrificing nature! Looking about, the silver-black made a motion towards the door. "I'd best be going," she said aloud. "And give you rest; enjoy the sun, Nauta -- there's a storm on the way."

With a whispered "thank you," Nauta settled down and gave herself over to the embrace of the sun.

RESCUE ONE

Like a great cascade it rolled, foaming and frothing as a raging river. Cavorting as an untamed stallion who breaks his bonds, the enemy approached. Silence, save for heavy breathing, that of a body caught in the grasp of paralysis brought about by terror. Here and there, a muscle twitched, a tic jumped of its own accord.

Clank!

"Holy . . . shit!"

The spell broken, Talen scrambled off his perch, crawling about on all fours as he sought to retrieve his toolbelt, something that had been sitting beside him on the old stone wall. All the while, his huge eyes were honed in on the huge veil of darkness approaching steadily from the east; interspersed with giant daggers of lurid green lightning, it came.

"Take cover!" one of the men shouted, stirring into action the others. Free of their bodybind, they ran pell-mell down the cobblestone walkway and back to the village square. The smithy bellowed his order again, aiming a kick at a faltering fellow. All his energy was being concentrated on making these men leave.

From the east it was coming, it was true; a cold, harsh wind blew, as if expelled from the lungs of a thousand white dragons. It tore at clothes, skin, feathers and hair, a many-taloned elemental. From where he was crouched, out of the sight of the smithy, Talen could see the very foundations of the wall begin to tremble with unnatural force, shaking in the face of fury. Clamping his agitated tail to his hocks, the spacefaring anthro gauged the wind and at the right time, spread his wings.

"Where're you going!?" the smithy roared as he turned and caught sight of pinions peaking over the wall. Talen paid him no heed and turned his face away.

"I have to warn the others!"

The smithy -- a huge slab of a man, easily double Talen's girth and weight -- grabbed for the first thing that zoomed by him as the anthrogryph took flight; a bear's paw of a hand closed. Tears of pain sprang to Talen's eyes and his wingbeats faltered, breaking back with a snap as his tail was jerked most savagely.

He's going to pull my spine out through my ass! the starcraft pilot's mind exploded. And so did bright lights before his bulging eyes. Truly, even as he thought it, skin so abused began to pull apart, sinew by sinew, excruciatingly. Dropping like a stone from the sudden torture, the anthro crumpled like a paper bag on the streets, every sense overwhelmed. There was nothing but PAIN.

Darkness.

The smithy bent over and slung his parcel over one rock-hard hunk of a shoulder and beat a quick-footed retreat, belaying all misconceptions that he was a slow man. Through the valley he ran, with Talen's lower jaw beating a limp tatoo on his back; what was more, however, was the fact that the tip of his upper beak punctured holes through the tough, boiled leather jerkin, drawing drops of blood. Heedless, the smithy raced on, urging those who he met to get underground. Streaking towards his own workshop, he spied the rest of Talen's group huddled over their strange communication device.

Dumping his load at Fareme's feet -- or, more precisely, at Fareme herself -- the smithy began to usher them towards the entrance to his underground storage shed.

All glanced at him sharply, Fareme more so. From Talen's body and back, their gazes slowly hardened into something bordering on malice. The Vulpegryph Healer's eyes shot livid sparks at the mountain of a man. "What happened to him?" she demanded, raising up on her hindquarters, hands on hips. All the hair and feathers stood out on her body as she mantled.

Jogging right past the agitated Rescue One, the smithy beckoned at them from the entrance. "Everyone -- in! This storm's gonna run us all over!"

Realization dawned on angered faces; without a word, Hosea scooped up Talen and deposited him in the crook of his sinuous neck; Fareme leaped up as well and began to exercise her powers. Suddenly, Hosea backed up and away, his massive brown and spotted hindquarters pedaling; he'd just seen where they were going. "There is no way in hell you're getting me in there!" But Syris and LunaFlare were already pulling at his dexterous hands, tugging impetuously as they edged him closer to the portal in the ground. Huge dragon claws dug furrows into cobblestone.

"You have no qualms about the Guild," LunaFlare chastised him firmly as rivulets of sweat ran down his great brow and intermingled with his beard. "Our lives are at stake!"

The skies rumbled, discharging a massive handful of green lightning. No amount of coaxing -- even from Nature Herself -- could assuage the dragon's fear. Suddenly, Hosea let out a bellow and pounded down into the basement, Fareme clinging with all her might onto both neck and Talen.

Syris tossed the pitchfork aside and galloped after her comrades.

RESCUE THREE

"Och, wha' a wee bairn of a blow we 'ave 'ere, d'ye ken?" Almalthia murmured seemingly to herself in the storage barn. In the heat of the moment, she'd reverted back to the speech-mode of her native North, a lilting, flowing pattern. Chittering ensued from her neck pouch as her familiars huddled after a tremendous boom! "Hush, me braw boyos; 'tis but a blow, a wee blow."

"Wish I had your confidence," SilverMoon muttered into her hands as she lay stretched out among hay bales.

"Any word yet?" Tagar asked as he and Nambroth curled cozily by the small magefire the silver dragoness conjured up for them; one of many interspersed about the barn that was now serving as a venerable lifeboat for Canfin's village. Real fire in such a place as this was suicide. Even as Tagar spoke, the wind set up another fierce howl and the sluice of rain against the timbers hardened.

People shrugged and Stormy tapped the Tsurieth half-heartedly. It only hissed and spat pretty sparks back in her face. "Nope."

"Hopefully they've been warned already," Tephroliah offered from opposite Tagar and Nam. As usual, she had several children clustered about her; this time, however, they were not in awe of the storm. Such confusion for these children, Stormy thought in sad sympathy, wincing as another roll of thunder echoed. Indeed, even when we tell the adults that one storm is for the good of the village, this comes along and we say it is bad. Mixed signals are never good . . . Well, if that fire ain't out by now, it sure as hell IS!

Bored, Stormy let her extra arms play a beat on the hard packed earth as she considered their options. She knew a similar thread was going over in the mind of Canfin, the village leader, over on the other side with the elders. Even as saviors, the Guilders had wisely separated themselves from the main. No one came to talk to them but the children. Looking out the rain-plastered window, she gauged what she could of the clouds. Most logically, Rescue One should have seen it first, for this came from the east and their village, and enough time beforehand til the communication went dead. Idly, the zerg-infested weregryphoness punched buttons on the Tsurieth's base, not really caring what happened, only that she got someone on the other end. Her efforts bred true: with a pop and a fizzle, the Tsurieth bounced two feet in the air, pinged off of SilverMoon's horns and landed with a plop behind some hay bales.

"Great," the gryphoness muttered with a clenched serrated beak, "you broke it."

SilverMoon bared her fangs in pain, giving Stormy a dirty look while rubbing her offended ornaments. She opened her mouth, but it wasn't her voice that spoke: "Akai? Akai, orth verath irkch?"

Realization. "Oh -- damn!" Stormy scrambled over bales, limbs flying all over the place, looking frantically for the half-globe. Tephra sent her children after her, and soon there were more eyes -- and far more hands -- looking for the Tsurieth.

Thunder and lightning punctuated the race, but no voice was louder than that coming from the Tsurieth: impatient, uttering phrases that were far too quick for anyone to discern, but there was no mistaking the infliction. "I got it!" A little one held up the battered device, proudly beaming. Stormy's stomach did a flip flop as her worst fears were confirmed. Staring back at her -- albeit upside down -- were a pair of piercing grey diamond-shaped eyes.

No one among the Guilders spoke; the villagers went on, blissfully unaware of the very existence of Vahazayi. Rescue Three watched with trepidation as the child held up his find to the gryphoness leader. Absently patting the boy on the head, Stormy took the Tsurieth and righted the Phoenix.

"Hello."

A boom shook the timbers.

"Explain yourself," the Phoenix demanded brusquely, changing languages. He was yellow in color, tinted like a sunflower, but with a sky blue crest angled far over his cere. The stare unnerved Stormy. "How have you come in possession of a Tsurieth, Gryphon?"

Stormy turned to look at the eyes of her companions over the device. A click and she was aghast to see that the Phoenix had changed perceptions and was also looking in the direction she was. "Aaah," he said and turned to face Stormy once more. Tephra and SilverMoon were making furious scything motions with their hands; Tagar and Nam stared at her; Alma shrugged. Stormy's mouth gaped and she tried to formulate words in explanation.

The Phoenix didn't wait for her. He'd seen all he needed to. He sighed -- sighed. "You are a Guilder; I should have known. Passes were issued for several Tsurieths by Ambassador Kalaki Shekeira of the Elven Nations, transferred over to the hands of the Gryphon's Guild."

"You mean you won't prosecute us?" Stormy asked. As if, she thought in the recesses of her mind.

The Phoenix chortled. His demeanor had gone from unitarian to personable. "We have no jurisdiction there, that is a matter of the Elven Nation. However, we like to know who is in possession of such things; these are powerful tools, you know. I do not know how you got the code for Phoenixia, but I suggest that you do not try that again."

Stormy nodded, her anger quickly draining away. Only doing his job . . . Better now than never. "Sir," she began politely, "if you are aware of our ownership of the Tsurieths, are you aware of our predicament?"

The male Phoenix nodded. "Of course, through Ambassador Shekeira. We know very well that a meteorite crashed through your atmosphere and caused great destruction upon your part of the world." He held up a wingclaw for silence when Stormy's beak opened. "I know what you ask, Mistress; it is not our duty, to send aid for such a minor disaster."

"MINOR!" SilverMoon exploded, drawing the attention of the villagers; they hurried to their spot and clustered around, eyes wide in astonishment at the floating Phoenix head.

"Yes, minor," the Vahazayan replied smoothly. "You must understand the nature of our very existence . . . right now there are perhaps millions of disasters greater or less than yours occurring at this very moment all across the expanding Universe. Millions -- beyond counting. We are so few that if we tried to aid them all, people would still die."

Ironically, the Phoenix's words did make sense. Stormy found herself nodding. All of a sudden, Canfin ran up and stole the Tsurieth, brandishing its face against the window. "See this!?" he roared at the Phoenix. "See the destruction!?"

Sighing again, the immortal spoke to the disheartened leader. "Verily I do, sir, but it is not for us to fix. We have greater problems to focus our energies on, should they come. Too many put too much faith in what we are."

"Such as?" Canfin growled, staring heatedly into the eerie eyes. Tagar leaped up when no one else did and wrestled with the man, wings beating to make him dislodge the precious Tsurieth. It popped back into Stormy's hands, but Canfin still shouted. "People have died!"

"And more will die in the time it takes you to draw a breath. Your world is so small that you see the bigger picture, but Vahazayi eyes are not so blind. We are not gods, nor miracle workers; we are warriors blessed by God and given a task to bear. This is not it. My condolences, Am'nelii Berinshah."

Blankness.

"Shit," Stormy breathed, turning off the overheated device and pocketing it. Canfin glared at her, but no more words could be spoken:

"The walls are coming down! Run!"

EXCAVATION

"Sorry, can't requisition you anything," Acyd told the young gryphon, pushing back a lock of her royal purple mohawk. Crossing her arms over her papers, she stared at the clan gryphoness with depthless blue eyes -- eyes that, like Crystal's, had no white, iris or pupil. Tapping a sign that hung from her desk, 'Cyd said, "These are only for Guild repairs -- nothing else. Got it?" she added when the gryphoness started to speak belligerently. Chastised, the female flicked her tail in a lewd gesture and trotted back down the hall.

Sitting back in her chair, muttering about the stupidity of clan gryphons, Acyd looked up to see another gryphon. This one, thankfully, had a requisition paper in his talons. He also had the grungy, ragged look of a worker. Acyd checked the slip against her clipboard and signed the paper with a nearby stylus. "Fourth door on the right, ask for Fulcharath. He'll give you what you need." Nodding, the male took off down the hall with his requisition.

A deep rumbling purr broke 'Cyd's bad humor. She glanced up to see Eclipse prancing up to her cluttered desk. Not three days into this project and I can't keep it all straight, she thought with disgust. I know better. Why they picked me, I'll never know.
"They moved you inside?" he joked. "Why, did you scare the workers too much with your foul temper?"

Acyd broke into a smile and flicked him a well-known gesture. "That's for that," she thrummed. "But seriously, they moved me because of the storm. Rescue One relayed it into Crys this afternoon." While her mind was on it, she began to shuffle some papers as Eclipse perched on the edge of the desk, looking appreciatively at her from over the top of his specs.

The black male nodded. "So I've seen." He looked down at her requisition sheets. "Say, 'Cyd . . ."

She looked up sharply. "What?"

"We-ell, I don't think you'd let me have a few of those window boards, would you?"

'Cyd eyed him suspiciously, scooping up the papers and stuffing them in a lower drawer; Eclipse continued to sit perkily. She knew that tone and grin! Arching a brow ridge, she asked: "Whyeverfor?"

Slyly, Eclipse passed a taloned finger over his soul sister's papers. "Why, my dear, to seal up our windows. The crews have just opened our floor and well, there's bound to be wind damage once it gets to us."

"Uh-huh . . ."

He wiggled his eye ridges at her teasingly. "Oh, please, 'Cyd? Illucian and I haven't had time alone in a week! We have to share a room with twenty other people -- Muse and Crystal included, and you know what a commotion they can make . . . oh, Acyd, please? I need some time alone! If I don't, I'll go crazy, I tell you! Crazy!"

She started out giggling, ended up laughing. Shaking her teary-eyed head, Acyd negated the idea. "No can do, my horny fellow. You heard what I told that clan gryphoness -- I only give out to workers. No sex-deprived males need apply."

Dramatic intake of breath. "Oh, 'Cyd! You tear me with those words! I swear to you, I can't stand one more day next to Muse and Crystal! Rabbits never make so much noise!"

"Oh, they do not! You know they have more decency than to do that in a roomful of other people! And if this is true -- which I don't think one word of it is -- I suggest you follow their example and forget everyone else around you."

"Pwease, 'Cyd?" It was the last straw: Acyd fell over in her chair as Eclipse turned himself upside down and stared at her with huge calf-eyes. "Pwease?"

Sides heaving, she managed to stand and shoved him off. "No!"

"What's with the look of defeat, big brother?" Muse teased over a steaming cup of tea. Eclipse shot him an amused look and took his place by his seraph ludrakoni mate, nursing his own mug. They sat in the cafe late at night, when most of the others had gone to bed or were working the night shifts. The winds may have howled like a thousand banshees in heat, but here, nestled within the heart of the Guild mountain, all they heard was an echo, feeling nothing.

Crystal nudged her mate in the ribs and he flashed her a smile. "Oh, let him joke, sis," Eclipse told her, smiling his wicked little smile. "He just doesn't know what I let roam about the Guild yet!"

Muse stopped laughing and turned red. The elder male pointed a claw and laughed. "And he doesn't know what I said, he still goes tomato!"

The Glacial gryphon coughed into his dexterous paw and hooked his free one over the shoulders of his mate in her alternative form. His color gradually faded with the passage of time; topics ranged far and wide between the four. It only became grave when Eclipse broached the subject of excavation. "Heard someone pulled out Likeshine today."

The smokey-blue male's features slipped into one of sorrow. "Yes, yes we did. Caly found her on the sixth floor, not far from where we pulled Kaal out." Beside him, Crystal nodded in mute agreement. Among her other tasks, such as administering to newcomers and various clean-up work, she spent much time in triage, watching over the forms of those pulled from the rubble. Absently, it seemed, she rubbed at her bandaged forearm. Lux noticed and reached across their table to pat her on the hand.

"How does she fare?" Their ludrakoni sister asked, sipping at her herbal tea. Though she took sustenance from the sun, every now and then Lux liked to sample foodstuffs; tea was her favorite drink.

"As well as she can be," Muse replied, exchanging a glance with his mate. He was worried about her, as were they all. Crystal seemed to be taking all of the occurrences unto herself, which was not a good thing to do. Her obsession with her wounded arm was a sign of such things.

Crystal passed him a small smile. She addressed her draconic sister: "I saw her when I went to visit Kaal this morning. Not to be cruel, but she did look much better than our little firekat. Dry, very dry -- expected, of course -- and malnourished. But other than that, in good shape." She flicked her ears, which sent her collection of earrings into a haunting chime. "I've seen those who didn't survive."

Eclipse eyed her. "Sis," he began gently, "I think I speak for all of us when I say that you've got to stop taking this all so personally. You are Vahazayi, and gifted with a healing power none of us have. Your demonstration of sympathy has been taken well, but let's face it -- it's gone too far. Heal yourself and get on with it."

Crystal blinked; a look at Muse confirmed it. Something passed between them and suddenly the bandage came off to reveal a long jagged gash. Ivory blood welled in protest at the forcefulness. Without a word, a spark of flame came to Crystal's snapped index- and thumb-talons; it soon roared into a flamelet five inches tall. Before their eyes, she passed it along her arm and just like that, perfect flesh. Conversation continued after that moment, and it was Lux who brought up the subject of a missing person.

"Any word concerning Tser?" she asked of Muse, who also served as liaison between the various excavation crews.

Quiet.

Slowly, Muse shook his head. "No word as far as I've been told," he answered after a moment. "I've spoken to them all and not a trace as to her existence has been discovered." He paused. "I fear that she may not even remotely resemble anything draconic after all this time."

"But you have all tried, which is to be commended," Eclipse murmured into his mug.

"Oh, aye," they agreed simultaneously. "And that is all we can ever ask for," the black male continued solemnly.

"May I offer my services, then?"

Four heads turned at the sudden appearance of another speaker. Looming far above their heads, even Lux's, were the twain visages of Arkhris-Omega, the melded mecha. "May I sit?" the head that resembled Xolaris queried.

"By all means." Eclipse gestured and the mecha's pistons jetted a puff of air as he lowered his combined body to their level. The dragon head representing Arkhon raised up and locked into position while the Xolaris head spoke. It was always this way -- nothing technical came from the gryphonic head, while conversation never issued forth from the draconic; a queer arrangement, but nonetheless acceptable.

"I am truly sorry that I was off on mission when this disaster occurred," he began. "If only I was here, I could have predicted and thus prevented it all. However," he recovered quickly before anyone could gainsay him, "that is not the case. I am here now, and I shall rectify it all. I overheard you speaking that Guild Leader Tserisa is still missing?"

"Aye," Lux affirmed sadly, pushing her cooling mug about.

"Then, perhaps, I can aid?"

Eyes widened as the thought came into their heads. Smiles banished sadness, beak-corners went up and light brightened their eyes. "Of course!" Crystal exclaimed. "Can you start tomorrow?"

"Indeed," Arkhris replied in his double voice. "Where shall I go?"

Muse jerked a thumb-claw upwards. "To Tathramakan and Aeris, up on the top level. If you don't see them immediately, look for their new partner: he's a bronze-green dragon with a black mane."

"Ah, a Northern fur." Arkhris nodded, and, unlocking his pistons, rose -- puffing gentle streams of air as he moved. With a bob to the four, he left.

The iridescent seraph ludrakoni sipped at her forgotten mug, pulling a face as the tepid brew hit her tongue. "Urg! Excuse me." Rising from her seat, Lux meandered over to Tagia and Nightsinger's station to get a refill. From out of the shadows detached a familiar form. He slipped from the wall and slid with a grin into the vacated seat, perching upon the over-large piece of furniture with ease.

"May I join you sweet people, or is this a closed conversation?"

Crystal groaned and Muse let loose a long-suffering sigh. Aryante flashed them both an endearing smile and palmed out a few cards.

WEATHER WATCH

As Stormy had predicted, it was indeed Rescue One who alerted the Guild. Drained from their previous excursion into the clouds above the Pendrake, three out of the six Watchers raised their heads wearily as they were rudely shaken awake by frantic hands. Because of their involvement in that project, they had been allowed to sleep far longer than they had agreed upon. Something must be afoot, their muggy minds thought, for Darkflame and Ursula to get them, and with such urgency. Indeed, for the third of their party, Sylvar, had been struck by a fallen timber from the hands of a workcrew. He had been rushed to triage but was totally unfit for duty, despite being conscious. Six to five, and far less powerful.

As the muzziness from slumber gradually receded, Keo, Aurora and Felio tumbled out on flaxen paws. They toddled over and joined their sisters on the ramp, already crawling with workers late this morning. As they looked out, the storm itself was but a haze on the horizon, but a close-closing one at that. Many oldbies who saw it likened the phenomenon to that of one seen more than two years ago, with the rise -- and subsequent fall -- of An'masazi. But not even the most powerful of mages could lay claim to creating this monster, nor could they command rocks from the skies who so birthed this savagery. Lux had termed them "meteors." No, this was wholly natural, from a researcher's point of view, that is; from the normal person's view, it was as close to Armageddon as they liked to get to.

"This is one mother of a storm," Felio murmured out of the side of her beak as she extended her senses. "When did you start seeing it?"

Ursula looked up at the sun and then back down again. "About two hours ago," she replied, "when we were alerted by Rescue One. To tell you the truth, I thought it was just residual smoke from Pendrake, but that had all blown out last night when we came on."

"We tried to contain it first off, but when that failed, we came to wake you guys up." Ursula shook her round white puff of a head, looking abashed.

Keo's eyes widened. "You what!?" the blood bay exclaimed. "Working with two and not three? You risked yourself doing that."

Her comrade shook her head. "We really didn't have any choice, you have to realize, Keo," Darkflame countered, flicking her scythe of a tail back and forth. "You three were in no position to do anything other than blow spit bubbles when we first looked in on you. And right now, Sylvar's no worse. I told him not to aggravate the work crew!"

Seeing the potential for a fight to build, Aurora stepped in, cutting the air with a curt hand. "Enough," she growled from behind her raven's beak. She turned to Ursula and Darkflame. "What happened to Sylvar?"

"He was told to move, but he was too stubborn to heed the crews. Dude took up position by that scaffold over there --" Darkflame pointed to a large platform from which perched several clan and Guild gryphons; it rested half on half over the ramp, rooted a hundred or more feet below in the ground.

"So, one of the gryphs lost his hold on a plank and boom, conks him senseless."

Aurora nodded. "I see. I wondered where he'd gone to."

"Good riddance, I say," Keo mumbled. Felio snorted at her and the lupogryph had the decency to blush.

"Hey . . ." Felio eyed Keo after a moment. "How did you know that they were short one?"

Keo blushed. "I got up when they were carrying him in. I had to pee." Her nares twitched at the admission. "When ya gotta go, ya gotta go, y'know?"

Everyone refrained from rolling their eyes.

Ursula sighed. "I don't know what we can do about this, guys. You're beat, we're tired from chasing that thing for two hours. It's too big for anyone to go at it alone."

"Well, we'll just have to bond together, like we were supposed to in the first place," Aurora stated. Felio nodded her bright-eyed head in agreement.

"Maybe the thing we need is an energy bar," she supplied thoughtfully, running a black paw under her chin.

"Oh? Do we carry any of those?"

"I should think so. We carry just about everything else."

"But the stores were blocked when we had the cave-ins."

Felio paused, considering what her black companion mentioned. "That's true," Darkflame spoke up, running a hand through her mane, "but what about the stuff those clanspeople brought in? And what Kalaki managed to teleport in from the Elven Nations?"

"Huh. You're right, Darkie!" Keo exclaimed. "I can go send for someone to go look?"

But help wasn't that far away. From up behind Ursula loomed a small Northern fur female; she had a kind face that was lined with winkles, but ageless eyes shone brightly at them. In her left hand she carried a small tray. "Did Ah hear ye correctly when ye mentioned energy bars, bairns?" She smiled benignly down at them, her speckled fur shifting in the breeze. "Wha' Ah 'ave 'ere may noot be wha' ye are lookin' for, but Ah'm sure they'll pep ye up weel."

She brandished the tray and all five peered over the other to glimpse a platter each with a small leaf-wrapped foodstuff and a mug of steaming brown liquid. What looked like a cinnamon stick poked out from each mug.

"Thank you, Mistress!" they chorused and eagerly took one of the five, sitting before the matronly dragoness.

"Nae a worry, bairns," the female replied firmly, the fine lines about her eyes creasing n pleasure. "'tis a weel ken fact tha' ye're feeling unna th' weather. Yon crew mentioned it while they were taking a break. Bonny lads they are!" She chuckled and watched with the gaze of a mother as they downed every morsel and drop.

Aurora was the first to finish; she scrubbed at her beak with her wrist and carefully place the items back on the dragoness' tray. "What was this, exactly, Mistress?"

"Och, 'twas a weel-known remedy amongst th' kin, lass. For magical depletion, d'ye ken."

Black-tufted ears slid forward. "Magical depletion, Mistress? Really?"

"Oh, aye, me wee black bairn. Old family secret, works wonders. Ye'll find out soon enough."

One by one, the others finished up and carefully placed their platters and mugs back on the Northern fur's tray. Even as she began to arrange them the way she wished, eyes and coats began to take on a glossier sheen.

Keo slugged back the last drop in her mug and planted it firmly on the tray. "Well! Wasn't that a kicker and a half!"

The Mistress dragon purred her pleasure and took up her utensils. She held up a clawed hand, that despite her age, looked extremely formidable; all comments were forestalled. "Dinae need t'thank me, bairns. The best that I can do for ye." With a kind twinkle in her eyes, she turned and swept back past the great Guild doors, which were swarming with members of a work crew.

Revitalized, all five converged on the ramp's edge, making sure to be clear of the platform. Keo shuffled black-tipped paws, curling her brush of a tail about her feet. Ursula chose to lounge, as was her preferred working posture. Aurora and Felio sat side by side, feeding off of each other. Darkflame's scythe of a tail stretched out behind her. They were ready . . .

. . . It began with a shield.

Fortunately for the many still attempting any sort of work while the storm converged, several large lightning rods had been installed, courtesy of the Elven Nation. They resided on the peak for the most part, and as soon as the crews finished grounding the final one, the first bolts of lurid green lit up the sky. Around late afternoon, a flash of electricity arced overhead. One struck with daring accuracy at the foremost rod, sending spark of the same color exploding into the air. The very ground shook with the utter primal force of it all. As with the initial strike, anything that wasn't fused to rock shook itself loose. Precious hours of painstakingly, backbreaking work shimmied from their new homes and crashed below, only to be swept up in the winds.

In the midst of it all, the Watch's semi-opaque shield held. Two to maintain it, it took all five of them precious time to create, as none were truly well-versed in such matters. All with psychic or mage talents knew how to shield, but a physical shield of such proportions were normally only attempted by Masters and Adepts, capable of forcing matter into shape.

No talking, barely communication of any kind within the spheroid. They ran by a deeper means possible, connected invariably by their similar abilities. Instinct, you could call it; intuition, perhaps. It just was.

The gravest, most important task in the area lay in their hands. They could not fail.

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