Chapter 5

"No." As soon as V-Naia saw the familiar blue Gomphid in the company of a dancer she didn't recognize, she launched herself from her perch to protest in Epepreo Tribal.

"Oh yes," replied M-Nev, calmly shifting her wings in Tribal Alighted. "He is an accomplished sentry in his own right, and he will get you past the border."

"But we captured him. I personally fought with him. Now you ask me to ally myself with D-Proi of the Gomphid?"

"It's not a request, V-Naia, and it is not up for debate."

D-Proi tried to interpret the unfamiliar dialect, but not being a linguistic scholar, failed miserably. So he interrupted, pulling away from his escort, and inserting himself between V-Naia and and the Elder. "I have answered your summons," he signaled stiffly in Common Flight. "What is it you wish of me, Elder?"

"Sentry, you are to join a squadron in need of a member. Together you will venture into your old tribal land."

"Need I remind you that I can refuse this?"

"You may, but surely you have a mate you've been longing to see?"

D-Proi backed away a distance, and rose a bit. "I do miss my mate, but I can't betray my people."

"He has a point," offered V-Naia.

"Not a good one," countered M-Nev, not leaving her perch. "His people are dying. He loses nothing by taking rank."

"No, just his dignity."

"Your people are sending nurturers to the front lines, D-Proi." M-Nev turned her attentions back to the Gomphid. "Nurturers, keepers, dancers… You could lose your mate tomorrow. You may have lost her already. Can you live with the not knowing?"

D-Proi lurched, but retained his poise. "Well, that is war, isn't it?"

"Oh, by Fate," G-Siol swan dove into the center of the triangle of debaters. "Gomphid, you join the Blindsiders for this one mission. M-Nev, you allow him to leave if he chooses, once that mission's done, and stay with his tribe, much good that will do him. And V-Naia, be a captain and deal with it. Fair?"

"Fair enough, G-Siol. I agree to that." M-Nev's wings twitched in amusement. "D-Proi, do you agree?"

"I suppose I don't have much influence in the matter. Yes, I will agree to that. One mission only."

"Agreed, then." V-Naia surrendered her hover to an air current for a moment, allowing the atmosphere to sigh for her. "D-Proi will take N-Centh's rank. Fourth officer. We will have our goodbyes and then reassemble by N-Centh's pool. G-Siol, you will be D-Proi's escort until further notice. Are we clear?"

"We are," the present Blindsiders replied, almost in unison.

"Good. Until dusk at the Pool Fed by Falling Water. We'll depart from there. Oh, and sharpen your spears," V-Naia relayed her final orders of the day.

"Fate be with you," M-Nev signaled the squadron, launching herself from her leaf. She had more responsibilities to tend to, after all.

"And also with you," replied V-Naia. And the Blindsiders dispersed.

--

They had once been modest kettles, carved by glaciers only extant in some distant ancestral memory, danced out like slithering ghosts in tribal lore. Since that long ago age, Phaneros had drifted into warmth, and the kettles had tested their banks, growing their own lobes, reaching through soluble minerals for greater depths. Their territory had grown accordingly. Like giant amoebas, they covered perhaps five to ten acres of surface area each. They maintained themselves with the gentle, scattered but reliable rains, and sometimes pulled additional fluid from hidden underground springs. They lived.

The Pool Where Trees Cradle the West Moon was the northernmost of the Epepreo pools. Spring and rain-fed both, it was the largest of the three productive waters. Its three primary outlets converged into a stream that casually meandered south through soil and stone, gathering discharge as it went. The surface was almost unmarred by eddies, and the crystal waters revealed a pebbled surface that leapt and rolled with rhythm and method.

It was all the more surprising, then, when the stream made its plunge. By the time it met the precipice, it was about three meters wide. The scarp itself was at least twice that in height, its strata looming over white, bubbling water. The daily rains, who had reduced themselves to halfhearted mists, met the spray at the knickpoint.

Sunlight usually shown through the water just so, hinting at the overhanging rock behind the shimmer. Today, however, the light leapt through the mists just so, unfolding into an astonishing array of color. V-Naia perched opposite the waterfall, her wings completely still. Radiant ultraviolet gave way to blues and greens, ultimately fading into dull near infrared. Ph-Lyre shared a leaf with his mate. She was mesmorized by the radiant arc, but he was not so calm.

"Do you think it's an omen?" he twitched, in broad exaggerated strokes, trying to catch her attention.

"An omen? Of what?" she finally replied.

"Of... of anything, V-Naia. Good or bad."

"I don't read omens. Ask a dancer."

"Look at me, V-Naia."

"Ph-Lyre?"

"This may be the last time we see each other. You're leaving tomorrow?"

"We are, yes." V-Naia broke away from the falls, finally turning her attention to her mate. Ph-Lyre glimmered with minute water droplets that resembled clear jewels on amber. "But we'll return. You'll see."

"When?"

V-Naia could only guess. Instead, she began a standard prayer, her wings brushing against Ph-Lyre's as they moved. "We have given of ourselves unto the water."

He offered the response. "The water has given unto us the sky."

"We have given of ourselves unto the sky."

"The sky has given unto us the light."

"We have given of ourselves unto the light."

"The light has given unto us vision."

"And sighted we ride Fate as wind," she concluded.

They fell again into stillness, not comforted but filled with acceptance. Her duties dictated that she go, and his that he remain home. They had chosen their life courses and would not change them in midstream.

The sun set. The rainbow faded. The sentry and the nurturer had been blind to everything but each other and the falls. That blindness faded, too, in time for V-Naia to see her squadron approaching in the distance.

"So, it's time?" asked Ph-Lyre, again restless.

"It is. Take care of our nymphs, Ph-Lyre."

"I will. Keep them safe, V-Naia.'

"I will. Fate be with you."

"Fate return you to me."

"It will. Trust it." Her wings touched his one last time, and then she arose from the frond, tightly clutching her spear and her hopes.

Chapter 4

"Yes, I know it's all chaos. Give me an audience." A dancer actively blocked V-Naia's path, determined to follow protocol in time of war. She hovered, brilliantly red in the morning sun. At her left, her second lieutenant gleamed copper, and at her right golden G-Siol hovered. Together they were a sunset at the Sunset Cycad.

"Tell me again why..."

"We have a proposal for M-Nev's eyes only. An audience, please!"

"I can't let you by unless I know why."

"Just let us the hell through," huffed G-Siol, flying forward, posturing. The dancer, undaunted, moved to block the sentry.

"G-Siol," V-Naia warned for the dancer's benefit. "Look, dancer, this is important. We would not be requesting audience with M-Nev if it were not."

"V-Naia, is it, of the Pool Fed by Falling Water?" M-Nev, who had been issuing orders nearby, inserted herself between the dancer and the sentries.

"Southern Fern-Shaded, Elder M-Nev," replied V-Naia, dropping altitude in deference to her Commander. A-Pol and G-Siol followed suit.

"Of course. F-Enek, you may go. Fly with me, all of you." The Elder Sentry was a robust female, impossible to ignore. Her exoskeleton was a deep green, striped in dusky orange and etched with evidence of a thousand battles. They had been as sand carried on the wind, and she a desert stone.

"My squadron is downed with two injured, or we'd still be fighting. Elder M-Nev, the Gomphid are too many. Too many for a dying two pool tribe."

"It is true." M-Nev wheeled through the air, motions erratic with Flight Language and travel. She kept the focus of her great green jewel-faceted eyes on the ballet chatter of the dancers around the Cycad. "Most of our reserves are committed to the defense of our lines. We suspect that the Gomphid have bolstered their own force with hunter recruits."

"That would not explain the numbers, not completely." V-Naia shot ahead of her Commander, leaping in Flight before settling onto a leaf of the Cycad and fading into the wing twitching of Alighted. M-Nev joined her, choosing an adjacent leaf. G-Siol and A-Pol remained aloft.

"Other castes too, then, none of them learned in battle but determined enough to fight." M-Nev's shining lenses met those of V-Naia, whose deep red eyes followed the complex wing motion. "What is your proposal?"

"G-Siol suggest we go around."

"Go around what?"

"The border. We go to Gomphid skies and find a weakness," G-Siol explained, fiddling with his spear, slightly unnerved in the presence of the Elder.

"A reconnaissance mission. We've sent scouts, G-Siol. They have not returned. What makes you think you would succeed where they have failed?"

"We are Blindsiders, Elder," interjected A-Pol, as though that explained everything. He kept his own spear at ease.

"That we are, that we are!" P-Ten darted into the field of view, flying with an enthusiasm that belied her recent injury. Clearly she had had a refreshing rest. Subdued F-Ness followed her closely for the sake of caution and under the orders of a healer.

"Do you even know what they're talking about?" demanded F-Ness, her amber-gilded amethyst a blur keeping up with her bright fuchsia charge.

"Well, no, but I assume they'll fill us in." P-Ten managed to stop before colliding with A-Pol, though it was probable she'd cut things close on purpose.

"P-Ten! Good to see you flying again," V-Naia greeted her first lieutenant.

"Yes, good," managed a slightly vexed A-Pol. "What of N-Centh?"

"She will live, but she may be in pain for the better part of a long cycle, the healer thinks," answered F-Ness, flying in a shallow mutter. "C-Epon is with her. We have moved her from the east magnolia wood to poolside. She is resting."

"But will she fly?" V-Naia needed confirmation. She'd had high hopes for the youthful officer, and did not like to see them dashed.

"Yes, she will fly, but not with us. Not soon."

"So we fly at six."

"No, you will fly at seven," M-Nev interjected. "You will take on the mission you've proposed, and you will have full rank."

"What is the mission? Will somebody tell me?" P-Ten leapt, performed a frustrated barrel roll and concluded by violating G-Siol's personal airspace.

He reflexively backed away, and repeated, "We go around."

"We're taking on a reconnaissance mission, infiltrating Gomphid skies," explained V-Naia. "But, Elder, tell me how you wish us to fill our ranks?"

"Wait a few beats. You'll see soon enough.

Chapter 2

P-Ten clung fast with four tarsi to the back of a desperately bucking chiron. Her fore and mid-right limbs were devoted to thrusting a spear at the neck of the creature. V-Naia kept an eye on her first lieutenant as she, the captain, faced radar ears, great nearly blind eyes and razor-sharp canines. The chiron screeched, lunging at her, but she feinted, knocking it on the side of its skull with her weapon. Twice as big, and at least four times as massive as the Aeshnida, the chiron were potentially formidable predators. Luckily, they were also loners and predictable, hunting primarily at dusk. They flew on cumbersome membranous wings, and they could generally be outmaneuvered by a standard seven-member squadron.

This particular chiron dodged to the left, into the spear of a flanking officer. It pulled right again reflexively, and into the spear point that gave the formation symmetry. The officer on the behind that spear stumbled backwards, absorbing the force of the chiron and turning to fight gravity. The second lieutenant, who covered the back of the formation, noted that it was time to finish the skirmish. "Take it down," he signaled to the two officers waiting above, and P-Ten, who still stuck to the back of the chiron. A-Pol, the second lieutenant, dove after the dazed right flanker as the rest of the squadron chased the creature into the lush grasses and ferns below.

"Good work," V-Naia approved, allowing P-Ten to take the finishing stab and the first morsel. "By the lore." The rest of the squadron followed P-Ten's lead, taking bits of meat from the muscular area just behind the chiron's wings. These they would carry impaled on spear point to those of the tribe who could not hunt for themselves. The rest they left to the dipter and other scavengers, a signal to other chiron that the northern borders of Epepreo land were not safe.

Just as V-Naia took the seventh morsel, a flash of yellow and deep brown appeared over head. "Who goes?" demanded copper-tinged A-Pol.

"M-Bene of the Epepreo, Southern Fern-Shaded Pool," the dancer replied with her learned flourish. "M-Nev bids your squadron meet at the Sunset Cycad. It is a Gathering. Make haste!"

She did not stay for conversation, flying off instead to find the next nearest sentries on chiron patrol, looking not unlike a vespin with the bands of alternating color along her abdomen.

--

B-Leon, another dancer, navigated the southeast vespin hive field. A dry night breeze rustled through the thick, tall grasses, and the ruby male was a bundle of nerves. So close to the border, he fretted to himself. Most keepers and sentries had been evacuated from this area already, leaving a skeleton crew to patrol in the temporary calm before more strategic security could be devised. But B-Leon had two more individuals to locate before he could call his assignment complete. "Have you seen M-Ela and Z-Geph?" he called out to a distant keeper.

"Sunward a few beats," the keeper replied.

"Thank you!" B-Leon took a sharp turn westerly, and soon realized how he'd missed the pair. Z-Geph, a pale yellow keeper and M-Ela, a dull orange hunter, were deep in conversation amongst a thick swarm of vespin returning to hive for the night.

"Where have you been?" B-Leon asked, flying headlong into the swarm and dispersing confused vespin left and right.

"Would you be careful? How'd a klutz like you get to be a dancer, of all things?" retorted the hunter.

"Stop. He's just excited," Z-Geph admonished. "I was just relinquishing a weak one for feed," she explained to the dancer. As if to confirm this, she corralled a lone vespin that tumbled through the air. B-Leon's charge had apparently been its last straw.

"I see," answered the dancer. He let the other male put the vespin out of its misery before passing along his message. "What I am here to say," he gathered himself, "is that the Elder Council bids you meet at the Sunset Cycad. It is a gathering, and you're late, so hurry!"

--

Its base was a brilliant reddish-orange, inside and out, and this vivid color extended to the its male cone. Its leaves were black at their tips and lightened in an irregular gradient as they broadened nearer the center and ground. The effect was indeed that of a sun sinking into the horizon, and that the Sunset Cycad was rooted deeply in a steep western hill was probably just coincidence. The Elder Council perched staid on its crown of leaves, and a flock of dancers hovered around them, waiting to remember history. One stranger, red and brown, hung poised above the cone. All around the rise, in innumerable restless strata, were Epepreo of all castes.

Satisfied that quorum had been reached, M-Nev, the Elder Sentry, rose from her perch. The bright twin moons illuminated her striped orange and green form in spite of the new night. "The Gomphid have sent to us, in their Elder Sentry's stead, a herald. C-Fas," she turned to him, "you have the honor of the message."

C-Fas obediently rose so that all could see him. "In the name of S-Fon, Elder Sentry of the Pool of the Gingko, and in the name of my people, I C-Fas of the Double Moon Pool declare war upon you the Epepreo who have but cannot spare the stuff of life."

"Will there be parley?" questioned M-Nev.

"The time is past. There will be no parley," replied C-Fas.

"No parley," repeated the Elder, for the benefit of those gathered. "Then we take you into custody, first prisoner of war C-Fas." She signaled in Tribal to a pair of nearby sentries, who approached the Gomphid in the center of the cycad. "Take him to the west magnolia grove and keep him there. Treat him well." The sentries did as they were told, flanking the dancer and escorting him to a distant cluster of red-leaved trees full of fragrant white flowers.

When C-Fas was out of sight, M-Nev continued her duties as Commander in Chief, sending perhaps half of her sentries to the battle lines, and to the vespin hive fields as security detail. She kept a reserve force in the vicinity of her pools. The other Elders distributed their respective castes accordingly. R-Tem sent many of her hunters to the borderlands to watch for chiron and other creatures who would take advantage of war if they could. F-Uan sent contingents of his keepers to aid in protecting their vespin. A-Sclep and H-Mes assigned certain healers and dancers to accompany the sentries, to act as field medics and heralds and historians respectively. V-Sta kept her nurturers at home.

Almost as an afterthought, M-Nev summoned an unassigned dancer forward. "M-Bene of the Southern Fern-Shaded Pool," she asked, "are you willing to go in trade to the Gomphid, to confirm Epepreo acceptance of war and no parley?"

M-Bene hesitated, thinking of her pool and her people. "I am willing," she finally replied.

"Go then, M-Bene, and Fate be with you."

"Fate be with us all." M-Bene sped off into the east, in the direction of the sentry force, the battle lines and the Gomphid.

"Indeed. Fate be with us at sunrise."