The moon had risen to the sky a long time ago, casting its soft glow over the quiet forest. Its pale eye was the only one to witness an unusual meeting that was taking place atop a hillside. A large group of wanderers had gathered around a small campfire. There were members of almost every Race in existence, from the feline-like Melains to humans, furry Oliths and even one Awai, and all of them laughed and chatted happily. Once in a while somebody interrupted the quiet conversation or loud laughter by stepping forward and telling a greater story - often backing it up with a harp or a lute.

The Gathering of the Bards had begun.

* * * * * *

"Not bad, not bad at all", Nolfin Bellford, the unofficial leader of the whole Bard's Guild said after one story had been finished. His shoulder-long hair was blond with a faint greenish tingle in it. He was slightly slant-eyed and sharp-nosed. To put it short, he was a mixture of several human races. Nobody actually knew where he was born. "One could expect a love tale like that coming out from the Canyon Point after Count Ta'dar had seen a glimpse of the youngest daughter of Lord Eram." He passed a flagon of wine forward.

"I wish I had been there", one of the listeners, a young man, said. "Instead of that story you would have heard how a bard stole a beautiful maid right under the nose of a nasty count."

The bards laughed. Somebody elbowed the speaker into his side.

"That wouldn't be a wonder, you Valanimus-reborn", Shidamyn, a blue-haired bard with hawkish features and a close friend to Nolfin, chuckled.

"Now, now", Nolfin scolded with a exaggeratedly stern tone, "Valanimus did not have that large nose."

"Nor an ego size of the Shadowplains", somebody added.

The bards laughed and the flagon went a full circle.

"I heard that somebody in Loch Zeress tried to resurrect Valanimus", a Melain bard said and sipped his wine. Just like most of his race, he was lean and blessed with almost unnatural agility. His strong body was covered with soft, brown fur. The whiskers of his lynx-like head twitched as he spoke.

"Really?!" Shidamyn did his best to look shocked and failed badly. "A sorcerer or a sorceress?"

"Of course a sorceress", the Melain, Tyfair was his name, chuckled. "I think that the poor widow felt herself lonely."

The bards laughed.

"Okay, I think that's enough of joking for now", Nolfin said and lifted his goblet. "On with the show, my friends. Let's talk about events of north now. Has there happened anything worth of a song?"

The bards turned their heads to watch a bird-creature that was sitting a little farther from fire. A member of the proud Awai race, he could be described as a humanoid hawk, owning both large wings and arms which ended into sharp, curved claws. Though he opened his beak as he spoke, his words were nothing more than quiet chirps and squawks. However, for a reason that has puzzled the scholars to this day, everybody who hears an Awai talk immediately understands what is being said: "The Awai Clans are still having a few arguments."

"Well, that could be expected", Nolfin replied and motioned the other to continue.

Shidamyn yawned. "Nothing worth of mentioning, then", he summarized after the Awai had finished his litany.

"That depends", the hawk bard replied and shrugged.

Nolfin poured more wine for himself. "Oh, by the Burning Pain, won't this flagon ever get empty?!" he accused and shook the wine pitcher that had still more than half of its contents inside.

The bards laughed. More wine was drunk.

Five Awai warriors sneaked through the twisting, shifting maze of caves and tunnels. They were all dressed in the unusual armor of a hawk warrior, which was very light, and fashioned of studded leather and thin chain. Each member of the group kept his eyes constantly in one of those directions from where their enemies could suddenly attack. The thin, two-edged and slightly curved swords were ready to strike anywhere, be it left, right, behind their backs or even above their heads.

This group could not be surprised easily.

"The warriors of Clan Tariz-Dav", the Awai-sorcerer said and pointed at the shoulder guards of the armors, where there were embroidered the sign of the Clan Tariz-Dav: two crossed swords with lean wings in the place of the blades.

"I do know the Clans", a female Awai, who was sitting in the other end of the table, replied calmly.

The wizard lifted his clawed hand and drew a glowing rune over the crystal globe. The image faded for a moment, and then cleared again. This time it showed another group of warriors somewhere else in the maze. These, too, proceeded in the same manner as the group before, keeping constant eye on their surroundings.

"Clan Riik-Kit", the Hawkmother said, eyeing the designs of their shoulder guards, eight wings, one of them pointing in the each of the cardinal points and the rest of them between others.

"This will be interesting", the wizard said. "The ritual's last ten warriors in two groups. They have to be excellent!"

The Hawkmother nodded. "It's third Warrior Ritual within a week already! Riik-Kit and Tariz-Dav certainly hate each other."

"I can do little else but agree, Queen Zaat Thirai-thoot", the wizard replied. Then he again changed the view of his crystal globe. "Ah, the groups will face each other. now!"

Almost at the same time the two warrior groups stepped into a cross of four tunnels. All motion stopped immediately. The silence lasted for long enough for the two sides to exchange a solemn greeting dictated by the ritual. Then all that continence disappeared as the warriors sprung forward, shouting honor for the names of their Clans. Steel stroke against steel and the first scream of death was heard.

Even the observers could sense the feeling of pain bursting out from the dying Awai warrior and spreading over the battlefield. The another puzzling ability of the hawk-race was almost automatic spreading of strong feelings into their surroundings. It was almost like emitting different kinds of smells, with the exception that it was felt in the mind, not in the nose.

Soon another fighter screamed and fell. He was soon followed by four more, and the struggling ceased. There were still three Tariz-Dav warriors standing, while only one remained on the side of the Riik-Kit. The fighting had ceased, yes, but it was not the end.

Far from it.

"Interesting situation", Queen Zaat remarked and the wizard felt how her excitement spread out in the small chamber.

Forced by honor and the ritual, two of the Tariz-Dav warriors stepped back, while the third one lifted his red-stained sword as a mark of a duel. The Riik-Kit answered this greeting and, after wildly shouting "Riiiiiiiiik-Kit!" lunged at his enemy.

The Tariz-Dav whirled his sword into a nimble block above his head, dropped onto one knee and continued the motion of his blade, skillfully turning the parry into a counterattack.

The Riik-Kit was not bad with his sword, either. Immediately after feeling his swing to be parried the Awai moved his blade lower, just in time to strike aside the attack aimed at his stomach. On that tiny moment it took from the Tariz-Dav to get his sword back into the defensive position, the blade of his enemy penetrated his armor, plunging deep into his chest.

"He has earned his claws", Zaat said as the pain of death once again spread into the cave.

The Riik-Kit had hardly pulled his sword out from the body as another Tariz-Dav leaped at him. This, however, attacked much more carefully than his foregoer. The swords of the Awai danced a long moment, neither of them did anything reckless. Then the Riik-Kit made the mistake of swinging at the feet of his enemy on the moment the Tariz-Dav leaped into the air.

The warrior did not have time even to scream as the sharp steel slashed the hawk head away from the body.

"So", the wizard stated, "the winner is the Clan of Tariz-Dav." The sight of a lone Awai-head made him spread a strong feeling of nauseated feeling into his chamber. "Fortunately the wedding ceremony of the Drakit-Dar and the Tariz-Dav will be held tomorrow. It is truly disgusting to see many so fine warriors throwing their lives in such a ritual."

The gentle glow of the crystal globe went out and the wizard covered it with a velvet cloth.

The Queen nodded. "There is much to grieve for the Riik-Kit today. A ritual war of this size has not been fought in. many, many years. However, I would not wait so anxiously for the next dawn."

The wizard stood up to bow to his Queen. Zaat Thirai-Thoot took the hems of her broad cape and stood up immediately after the sorcerer had straightened himself up. "I would not, Zook, I would not", the Queen repeated as she strode out from the room.

Zook looked at the closed door for a moment longer. Then he turned and opened a second door, which led to his private chambers.

The wizard knew that he should be sleeping soon. The wedding ceremony of tomorrow would certainly be a very fatiguing experience and controlling the crystal ball was not even from the minor end of the list of those few spells Zook had learned. He should rest and be prepared for tomorrow.

But even so, Zook just wandered back and forth in his room, considering the words of Zaat. The wizard was no fool. He had served his Queen for long enough to read between the lines, to hear the words she had left unspoken: "I do not expect the wedding to be as peaceful as it should be, Zook. Keep your eyes open and your magic ready."

Unfortunately, the foresight of Queen Zaat Thirai-Thoot held true awfully often.

* * * * * *

Zook stood on the balcony of his chambers and looked at the snow-clad mountains spreading out below him. The palace of the Clan Thirai-Thoot, just like those of all other Clans, was carved directly out from the side of a mountain. Almost opposite to Zook's balcony, in the distance of several kilometers, another stony finger rose up from the earth. In its side rested the palace of the Clan Tariz-Dav. Its beautiful spires and skillfully crafted walls seemed both glorify the beauty of the White Heights and compete with it.

The wizard turned his gaze from the festively decorated palace and noticed a hawk soaring through the blue skies in the distance. In order to be so clearly seen the bird should have been giant-sized.

Zook let out a quiet, creaking sound which other Races called the laughter of an Awai.

Of course it was giant-sized. Even from this distance the wizard could distinguish a rider in back of the noble bird. One of the greatest prides of the Awai were their mounts: even a dragon could not overtake a greater hawk with when it came to the flying speed.

This early in the morning one could not see very many hawks in the air, but this would change after the time of breakfast. Hundreds of hawk would soar through the skies, carrying their riders or cargo into their destinations, be it the palace of a Clan, a castle of one of the lesser families or the house of an individual Awai.

Zook turned his golden-brown eyes back into excellent view of the snowy valley below him. Leaning against the stone rail of his balcony the wizard pondered, how hard it would be for his people to move without their hawks. The forever snowy mountains had not attained their name, the White Heights, for nothing.

Shrugging his shoulders Zook stepped back into his chamber and closed the balcony doors behind him. Queen Zaat did not want her Clan to be the last to arrive into the wedding ceremony. The wizard checked once more that his clothes were in order and then took the decorated, sky-blue festival cloak from his round bed.

Somebody knocked at the door.

"Yes?"

The door opened and one of the palace servants stepped inside. He made a quick bow, tapping his beak with the claws of his both hands, as it was convenient when speaking to an Awai of a higher rank. "Queen Zaat asks her Honorable Court Wizard to make haste and arrive to the Nest as soon as possible."

Zook nodded and closed the silver clasp of his cloak.

"Her Honorable Court Wizard." the sorcerer muttered to the walls of his chamber after the door had closed. Apprentice Wizard, rather.

Zook could call himself a wizard only when sitting among the spellbooks of his egg brother. Without them and his few enchanted items he was nothing else but a trickster who knew only a few minor spells by heart.

So much unlike his elder brother, Kooz. The mighty Court Wizard of the Clan Thirai-Thoot, perhaps one of the best in the White Heights. The trump card for Queen Zaat in the complicated game of power of the Awai.

Kooz had always loved his little brother. He had even introduced him to the mysterious world of magic, not only teaching him its power, but also the knowledge when to use that power. Had everything gone well, there would have been two great Court Wizards within the halls of the Clan Thirai-Thoot.

Then occurred the mysterious disappearance of Kooz. One morning nobody had simply found him. Along with wizard disappeared also his staff, the most important magical item of Thirai-Thoot. Zook knew that Kooz was still alive, the bond between egg brothers let them know things like that. But where his brother was. that he did not know.

Zook pushed such thoughts out from his mind. It was not very honorable to fall into self-pity, and to most Awai, honor was much more important than such a minor thing as death. The wizard threw one more glance into his room and then opened the door.

It was not very honorable to let Queen Zaat wait, either.

* * * * * *

Third enormous hawk swooped down from the jut, carrying its rider into the ever-shifting embrace of wind. The bird beat the air with its great wings, searching for balance, and then it gracefully arched away from Zook's sight.

The wizard tapped the strong neck of his own mount. "Be at ease, Dagodei", he said to it, letting his soothing feeling to stream into the mind of the hawk. "Two birds more and then will be our turn."

However, the rider was as anxious as the mount was. It had been almost two weeks from the last time he had felt the wind all around him. All that time Zook had spent in his chamber among his books. But now, now he could finally blow all that dust away from his mind. It was time to enjoy, it was time to feel the strong, biting wind against his feathers and it was time to listen to its singing.

It was time to fly.

The fifth hawk sped out from the palace of Thirai-Thoot. Its echoing scream yanked Zook out from his thoughts. The wizard crouched in the back of his mount, took a firm hold from the leather straps and said: "Show them, Dagodei, how the Duke of the Wind flies."

The hawk let out a thundering screech and spread its wings.

One bewildering wrench within Zook as Dagodei plunged into the wind and then the lovely, intoxicating feeling as the bird straightened itself into more level flight. The wizard had experienced that feeling more often than he could remember, but he knew that he would never get tired of it.

Slowly Dagodei started to ascend into the skies with all the nobility belonging to the descendant of the greatest and strongest hawk ever found from the Nest of the Clan Thirai-Thoot. The bird's saddle and harness were of appropriate worth, too. They were skillfully crafted of the skin of a young dragon, a dragon which had been dropped from the heavens by Kooz and Zook. (Mostly by Kooz, though, as Zook constantly reminded himself.)

As Dagodei wheeled above the palace of Thirai-Thoot, the wizard once again turned his eyes to admire the snowy landscape so far below them. It would take some time for all the nobles and the Honor Guard of the Clan Thirai-Thoot to take air, so Zook would have plenty of time to enjoy the wind tearing his blue cloak. Though flying would have been a terrifying experience for most the other Races, who preferred slow, earth-bound mounts, to an Awai it was like a horseback trip through fields on a beautiful morning.

Zook had never really understood what the heck Kooz had meant by that comparison.

By the permission of the wizard, Dagodei swooped down like a giant arrow, flipping Zook's guts over once again. The Awai was quite used to that, too, pretty much like members of the other Races had gotten used to that constant jerking in the back of a horse.

How could anybody tolerate such a thing? Zook knew only one Awai who could have answered that question, but, then again, his brother had spent a great deal of time with the humans, the Melains and even the Oliths.

Suddenly Zook noticed a lone hawk flying in the distance. He instantly discerned its course - directly into the palace of the Clan Tariz-Dav. But this was not the reason why the bird had attracted the wizard's attention. Even from this far Zook could distinguish the color of its rider's cloak. Unlike the common light blue, gray or brown, it was leaf-green.

Though green, along with the brown and red, was a cloak color favored by most of the other races, the complicated sense of honor of the Awai saw it has a dishonorable color, because it was so often used for camouflage in the forests. Thus it was an ill-placed color to be worn. In other words, this rider either possessed an odd way of thinking, or he was an Honorless, a disgusting title every Awai feared more than death.

A formation of three hawks sped into the air from the palace of Thirai-Thoot. The armors of the Awai riders were decorated with silver and into their dark-gray cloaks were embroidered the sign of the Clan Thirai-Thoot: the sun rising from behind a mountain. The first Honor Guard had taken air. Soon it would be followed by two other groups, after which would come the turn of the Queen herself.

Zook turned his gaze back into that lone hawk. He still had a little time. Ordering Dagodei to slow its flight - the hawk obeyed somewhat gruffly - the wizard summoned the power locked deep into his heart. In his mind he unlocked the bolts holding back the magic and let it flow freely. It felt like the time itself had slowed down around the wizard as he concentrated in the words and gestures needed to shape the spell he needed. His clawed hand rose and drew a glowing, bright-blue rune into the air.

The last syllable of the spell - he released the magic with a swift wave of his hand, opened his eyes and looked at the unknown hawk. It had been hardly five seconds. To the wizard, it had felt more like five hours.

Again Zook closed his eyes and concentrated in his target, summoning a picture of a green-cloaked Awai riding with a hawk into his mind. Then he started to extend his gaze, closer, closer.and closer still until the eyes of his mind saw the bird hardly further than ten meters away.

The wizard had been right, there were no Clan signs in the rider's dented leather armor. The worn short sword which had been tied into his belt did not look to be of Awai-style, either. The battle staff in his hand, however, was a completely different matter.

The wizard had no time to admire the weapon's careful iron fittings, when another matters already demanded for his attention. Hastily pulling his gaze back Zook turned his head just in time to see the Queen soaring out of the palace, riding Ryinhaute, the greatest and mightiest hawk of her Nest.

Dagodei suddenly started bucking, pulling its reins with all the dignity, but still strongly enough to attract Zook's attention. The wizard read the behavior of his mount like an old horsemaster his faithful four-legged friend. The hawk clearly wanted to join Ryinhaute's - Dagodei's mother's - company. Amusedly Zook tapped the strong neck of his great mount and, after giving one last glance at the strange clanless Awai, ordered it to join the formation of the hawks of his Clan, as they rode on wind toward the palace of the Clan Tariz-Dav.

Zook would have wanted to say to his Queen something like "This will be quite a wedding", but wisely he kept his beak shut. Why to bother Zaat with irrelevant matters, when the Honorless would be immediately chased out of the Tariz-Dav residence anyway. The wizard decided to let the things flow with their own weight.

* * * * * *

"The Mighty Queen Raeek of the Clan Braka-Rats", the announcer declared as the ninth group of wedding guests arrived into the huge welcoming hall of the Clan Tariz-Dav. The families and the Honor Guard of eight Clans were standing exactly in their ritual-dictated places in different sides of the hall. One of the princes of the Clan Tariz-Dav toured among the Awai, stopping by each group, serving the wine carried by his trailing servants and exchanging a few polite words with the noble representatives.

Zook would have yawned if such a thing would have been possible for an Awai. Faithfully to his bad habit, he had slept quite little and the waiting had already lasted for an hour. It could just easily last for another one before all the fourteen major Clans of the White Heights had arrived. The wizard attempted to pass the time by eyeing the representatives of the other families. He noticed that the Clan Riik-Kit had not yet arrived.

Not a surprise, that one.

It was a common knowledge that the Riik-Kit did not especially value Tariz-Dav's hospitality. Though the wedding rituals of the nobility demanded that every Clan must send at least five representatives, the enemies of the Clan Tariz-Dav really had reason to hurry with this necessary evil.

The prince and his servants arrived to the Clan Thirai-Thoot. After pouring wine diluted with ice cubes into a goblet he started the conversation with Queen Zaat. Since Zook was currently busy estimating the average speed of Queen Raeek Braka-Rats's steps, he did not follow the discussion too much. This was until the prince mentioned the certain name.

"The family of the Clan Tariz-Dav is very saddened to hear that there has been no news of the Mighty Kooz. One of my brothers would be greatly honored if he would be allowed to enter apprenticeship under the famed Court Wizard of the Clan Thirai-Thoot. For a fitting return present, of course", the prince added smoothly.

Queen Zaat accepted the offered goblet and answered: "Your suggestion is very interesting. Perhaps this will be a new opportunity to strengthen the warm relations of Tariz-Dav and Thirai-Thoot even more. We will consider it."

Quietly Zook translated this in his mind: Consider it discarded.

The prince nodded and moved on to serve the wine to the other representatives of the Thirai-Thoot. When the young Awai arrived to Zook, he recited an old Awai-saying: "The spirit of a proud hawk cannot be bounded. My commiseration for Kooz."

These words were usually used when speaking of a dead Awai. Zook replied the quote: "Even the wind cannot command the flight of the hawk's spirit." He accepted a goblet of wine with a little nod, then added: "And I believe that my brother is still alive."

Zaat scowled at her wizard, clearly shocked with his rudeness. The prince, however, seemed to understand and continued with his tour.

Zook leveled the goblet with his golden-grown eyes. It was a beautifully made, high cup with a long, thing lip. Thanks to their hawk-heads, the Awai could not drink from the cups similar to those of the other Races. They needed something to pour the drink past their beaks, neatly into their throat.

Shrugging, Zook tasted his wine and continued to observe the other Clans. The prince of Tariz-Dav moved to the representatives of the Clan Braka-Rats. Zook had to admit that he liked this youngest of the Tariz-Dav. The prince's mildly informal behavior was a refreshing change for the usually so strict court behavior of the Awai.

A servant hit a gong to announce a new arrival.

"Clan-" the announcer started, halted and then corrected: "Tier McGer, the Black Talon of no Clan."

The guests' heads turned at the lone figure standing between the great double doors. The undecorated, pitch-black cloak flowing between his wings and down behind his back was a proof enough. Tier McGer was an aged Awai, his brown feathers had already turned grey, but his brilliantly yellow eyes, which now checked the whole hall with a habituated swiftness, had not lost a drop of their sharpness. The same could also be said of his two swords, because McGer was a Black Talon, one of the highest-ranking members of the Awai's warrior caste. They were feared and respected everywhere, not only among the hawk folk. And for the top of it all, Tier McGer was known to be the eldest of the all dozen Black Talons of the White Heights, and proudly carried his reputation as the best swordsmaster of his caste.

The veteran warrior bowed to the Clan representatives and, quite aware of all those gazes, walked inside. Almost every Queen of the White Heights would have wanted him to be the arms master of her Clan, but Tier had refused all offers. Zook could only guess the old warrior's reasons for rejecting such honor.

Suddenly the wizard felt something touch his mind. It was a faint, almost imperceptible feeling, but still it bothered Zook like a distant whine of a bug in the middle of the night. As Tier strode closer to the Clan Thirai-Thoot the vibration just got stronger, and after the veteran warrior had passed Zook, it started to weaken again.

A memory of casting a spell to lengthen his sight rose up into the wizard's mind. He had felt the vibration of the same kind as the magic had surged through his mind and body, but then the feeling had been many times stronger.

Every wizard could sense magic when it was close to them. Remembering this, Zook looked at Tier McGer a bit differently. The Black Talon himself probably could not command magic, so the wizard concentrated in his equipment instead, looking for signs, runes, anything indicating for hidden enchantments.

There was none, but soon Zook believed that he had found the source of the vibration. The longer one of the Black Talon's two swords seemed to radiate with power. Quickly memorizing the decorations of its handle, the wizard made a mental note to ask about it from Tier himself.

Zook turned to remark something to Zaat, but the Queen silenced him with a wave of hand. "Zook, do you know who that is?" she asked without turning her gaze from a lone Awai, cloaked in green, who was sitting on the railing of a balcony above them.

The wizard followed her eyes and nearly stumbled from amazement. "Honorless!" he gasped, "Within the palace!"

Queen Zaat waved furiously her hand to silence the wizard, but it was too late already. The sharp-eared Honor Guard of the Clan Thirai-Thoot heard the words of their Court Wizard and acted by them. Within a moment the Thirai-Thoot's nobles were surrounded by a protective wall of warriors, ready to protect their Queen from any harm.

This sudden move made the whole hall explode into action. Tier McGer's blades whizzed out of their scabbards before anyone could even know what was going on. The Honor Guards of each Clan set up protective circles around their masters. The few guards of the Tariz-Dav took their defensive positions. Swords flashed out, spears were leveled at their supposed enemies.

Only the green-cloaked Awai did not move. He seemed to be contented with just watching the show below him.

The action halted. The Honor Guard stood in their places with their swords out, ready but uncertain whom they were supposed to guard their Queens against.

This lasted for several minutes, the atmosphere tightening with each second. On that very moment when the whole hall would surely have again burst into action and turned into the battleground the Clans, Queen Saar Tariz-Dav herself appeared onto the balcony and thundered: "What is the meaning of this?! Drawn swords within my palace? Are you so impatient that you cannot stay in the presence of your enemy Clans an hour without being conquered by your bloodlust?"

The green-cloaked Awai said something to the Queen. The ruler of the Tariz-Dav nodded, and the stranger leapt over the balcony rail.

Slowing down his fall by spreading his wings, the Awai glided with grace down into the hall, directly into the middle of the battle-ready Clans. As his clawed feet touched the stony floor with a loud, snapping sound, McGer slid his swords back into their places, seemingly assured of the safety of the situation. Performing an exaggerated bow the stranger pulled his leaf-colored hood from his head. On that very moment, almost every mind in the hall recognized the Awai.

"Of course it is most flattering that you arrange such a handsome parade in my honor", he started and produced a gold-plated harp from the folds of his cloak. Flicking a few tones with his blue-lacquered claws he winked one golden-yellow eye at McGer and bowed to the Clans for another time, just in case.

Then the Awai's deft fingers started to pluck at the harp's strings with great skill. Even those who had not recognized the stranger himself, knew well the ballad played by the hawk bard. Its rhythm was peaceful, its tones were wistful yet told of proud hope. The song flowed through the ranks of Awai warriors, the tale it told gently took them into its warm embrace. It flew from the harp like the wind itself, sometimes as quiet as the weakest of breezes, sometimes as proud and strong as the most glorious of storms. As the Awai played, the guards slowly lowered their weapons, listening to the beautiful song. It was known as the Winds of Honor, and there was no Awai hatched who would not know it. The song glorified honor and the grandness of the White Heights; two things the hawk folk saw to be more important than anything, anything, else.

After the Awai had finished his performance, no drawn blade could be seen in the hall. One song had broken through all the distrust of the guards who were willing to defend their Queens with their lives. Even more efficiently had it served to introduce the stranger, because this song was held as a personal sign of a certain, quite famous bard.

The very same, who now stood in the front of the Clans.

The members of the mysterious Bard's Guild wandered all around the world and gathered, remembered and recorded down notable events and heroic deeds (They were known to perform a few of the latter themselves along the way.) Many of these bards gathered quite an amount of reputation during their journeys, and some of them had almost attained a legendary status.

These days, there two bards who easily rose above all others. The unchallenged first one was Nolfin Bellford, the master of the Bard's Guild. The second one was a carefree Awai bard, who was known only as Hook-Mook.

"Your honor brightens mine", Hook-Mook started with the eloquence so typical for bards, "So I believe you will allow my humblest presence in this grand occasion when the young ones of the Tariz-Dav and Drakit-Dar are wed." Billowing his cloak with a nimble move of hand, the bard bowed to the Clans once more. Then he drew his hood back over his head, turned, and strode into the stairs.

* * * * * *

"This is quite an occasion", Zook remarked to Zaat as they moved from the welcoming hall into the great hall, where the ceremony was to be carried out. "Tariz-Dav's and Drakit-Dar's, the two of formerly so hostile Clans, wedding, and of all the fourteen Clans of the White Heights, even eleven Queens present! That is quite an honor."

Zaat did not even glance at her Court Wizard. Her eyes were tightly fixed into the doors before them.

Slightly unnerved because of her behavior, Zook hesitated and continued: "And to crown it all, even Tier McGer and Hook-Mook himself are present!" The wizard spoke the name of the hawk bard with very great respect now.

Zook did not know if it was caused by mentioning the bard's name, the tone of his voice or some other reason, but Zaat turned at him so quickly that the wizard could hardly flinch before the Queen's sharp claws had already grabbed the collar of his blue cloak. "Zook", she hissed, "knowing that you are my Court Wizard and thus rank much higher than a bard of no clan, and that this was the first time you actually saw Hook-Mook, I can not ignore the fact that the farce in the welcoming hall was caused by you. The Court Wizard of a Clan should possess more self-control than that. Had Hook-Mook not arrived and saved your cheap little feathers, that welcoming hall would now be full of bodies and blood. All that, because of you." The last word was so full of poison that Zook could not help but to shudder.

Zaat released her iron grip of the wizard and her voice softened. "Unintentional or not, calling Hook-Mook an Honorless hurts his honor badly. Be sure to officially - and unofficially - apologize to him."

"As soon as I get the chance", Zook stammered a reply.

The Queen gave his wizard one warning glance more and turned her attention back into the double door leading into the great hall.

The palace of the Clan Thirai-Thoot was designed for defensive purposes. Though its Queen was well honored and respected, the Clan was still a relatively small one, and thus it could not afford too flashy residence. Keeping this in mind, it was not a wonder that the great hall of the palace of the Clan Tariz-Dav dazzled Zook. It looked almost like half of the mountain's height had been reserved for this hall alone: nobody had bothered to decorate its ceiling since few would get a chance to get close enough to actually admire it. Great vaults supported by obsidian pillars (Impressive, Zook thought, how can they afford to ship those things?) arced far above the heads of the Awai. Almost every inch of the stonework was filled with carvings and paintings, all of them illustrating floating clouds, singing winds, flashing of a thunder and the sun rising high above it all.

As the Clan Thirai-Thoot ordered themselves into their place inside the hall, Zaat surprised her Court Wizard once more. "By the way", the Queen started, as if her anger had disappeared as quickly as a mouse fleeing the broom of a housewife does.

The wizard turned his attention to his Queen immediately. He had no intention of giving more reasons of shame for the Clan Thirai-Thoot.

"Did you say that there would be fourteen Clans here?" Zaat continued.

Zook shrugged and looked around. "All of them are here", the wizard said. Suddenly he thought of something. "Except-"

"Except the Clan Riik-Kit", Zaat bluntly put in.

Again Zook glanced around, hoping to catch even a glimpse of the absent Clan.

In vain.

"Zook, the worst disregard in ten years is a fact", Zaat stated harshly.

The wizard shook his head, not wanting to believe his Queen's words. According to the Awai-traditions, every Clan was required to send at least five representatives into important rituals such as a wedding between the Clans. Three of these had to be of nobility. The arrival of ten nobles was already quite a show of respect. The arrival of a Clan Queen herself told of great respect. Hostile Clans often made their thoughts known by sending only five representatives. Four was considered to be an insult to the host Clan.

Refusing to arrive at all - that was totally impudent.

"Certainly", Zook said to Zaat "Queen Deek Riik-Kit is certainly gathering troubles with this. You were right, my Queen. This won't be as a peaceful ritual as it should be."

Zaat nodded. "Thirteen is a bad number, Zook."

The representatives of the Clan Yarh-Thoon arrived through the door and settled into their places. Zook glanced at McGer, who was standing alone near the altar, and then at Hook-Mook, who - as an unofficial guest as bards usually are - leaned against the wall and was absently plucking quiet notes out of his harp.

A sudden thought entered his mind. The wizard turned once again to Zaat. "My Queen, doesn't Hook-Mook usually appear there, where happens something worth of a song?"

For a short, quiet moment Zaat just stared at Zook curiously. "Yes - like most bards do."

Zook gave the hawk bard one glance more. "In other words", he said, "something will happen here soon."

"Yes, I have noticed something, too." Zaat would certainly have frowned if such a thing would have been possible for an Awai. She motioned the wizard to continue.

"Let us think about it", Zook said and lifted his hand before his beak. Lifting one of his curved claws up, he started listing: "First, the marriage between the Clans Tariz-Dav and Drakit-Dar. Eleven Queens present. That is quite a show of respect. And second, the Clan Riik-Kit does not appear." Another finger rose. "Now that is completely out of all the rules of politeness. And third, Hook-Mook appears out of nowhere." The third finger rose. "Everything indicates to something great. Good - or bad."

Slowly Queen Zaat nodded and was just about to add something, when one of the other nobles of the Clan Thirai-Thoot interrupted them: "Excuse me, Your Majesty, but the ceremony is about to start."

* * * * * *

"It is time for a young maiden to leave her nest", intoned the priestess who was standing before the altar.

"Who might she be?" asked Tier McGer, on whom had been bestowed the honor to act as the counter-speaker. "A little girl of a poor family?"

"Oh no!" the whole hall thundered in one enormous chorus, as the ritual guided.

"No", the priestess confirmed.

"An orphan with no family?" McGer demanded.

"Oh no!" the chorus roared.

"No", the priestess repeated.

Tier scowled ominously over the crowd and asked again: "Faithless daughter of an Honorless?"

"Oh no!" the chorus thundered even louder.

"Oh no!" the priestess affirmed, acting as if she had been shocked by this insolence.

Kaaz Tariz-Dav, the first-born of the Clan Tariz-Dav and the groom of the ceremony, enacted to be angry and stepped forward, his hand going for his bladeless ceremonial sword.

McGer took a step forward, stopping to stand between the altar and the long Passage of Honor, which was formed by the members of the Clan guards and younger Clan princes. "Who then might she be?" he shouted, lifting a hand toward the double door in the other end of the Passage. "Let her come before us and show us her honor, so that I can be wrong!"

One of the warriors hit an enormous gong with a large mallet, and the double doors opened. Through them, escorted by two of her elder brothers, stepped the youngest princess of the Clan Drakit-Dar. She was dressed in white clothes, pure as snow, while her high-collared cloak was the deepest blue of the sky.

"Her", the whole crowd announced.

Of all the Races in the world, the Awai were such a unique folk that none of the outsiders could ever say if this or that Awai was beautiful or not. As a matter of fact, it was difficult for most people to even distinguish a male and a female from each other. The Awai themselves, of course, had no such problems, and so Zook was pleased to find that the youngest daughter of the Drakit-Dar was beautiful.

Actually, she was very beautiful, but the wizard suspected that this was probably because of a few small but well selected spells the Clan's sorcerer had cast over the princess. These illusion-like spells worked much in the same way as the make-up humans so often valued, as Zook remembered Kooz to explain it. They enhance your good features and diminish your. less-good features.

By the mark of an elder captain the warriors forming the Passage drew their swords and lifted them into a canopy of steel, under which the bride slowly started to walk. Every warrior passed by the princess moved his sword lower, closing the Passage behind her. As the bride finally arrived before Tier McGer, the captain gave another signal and the swords flashed back into their scabbards in one shikk!

"So this one is the maiden whose time it is to leave her nest?" the veteran warrior asked scornfully.

"This one!" the hall roared.

"Yes, this is her", the priestess announced.

"So this one is the maiden who was, is, and will be as pure as the snow of the highest tip of the White Heights?" McGer demanded.

"This one!" the chorus thundered.

"Yes, this is her", the priestess admitted.

"So this one is the maiden who now will swear her faith to her groom, will be freed by honor and will be bound by honor?"

"This one!" the hall answered, their shout climbing into the new, ear-aching heights.

"Yes, this is her!" the priestess announced.

After a moment of ear-deafening silence, McGer nodded to the priestess and slowly, solemnly, performed a deep bow to the bride. "May the new pair soar high. I am convinced." The veteran warrior stepped aside, allowing the princess to pass.

"The Asker has been convinced!" the priestess announced. "Is there any other here who would challenge the bride's honor, is there any other here to challenge this alliance?" The priestess let her yellow, cold gaze sweep over the gathered Clans, examining, searching, looking for those who would dare to go up against her words.

Instead of the ceremonial silence, a sudden voice shouted from the back of the hall: "Yes! I challenge it!"

The whole hall soughed with amazement, and hawk heads turned to look at the double doors. Between them had appeared a group of Riik-Kit warriors, their swords still in their scabbards, but their hands ready at their hilts. Before them all stood the first born of the Clan Riik-Kit, Geer Riik-Kit, in his full battle garb.

Quietly Zaat shook her head to her wizard. After the passing the line of insult the Clan Riik-Kit, it seemed, had no bounds. Zook noticed that Hook-Mook, who had seemed to be absorbed into his own thoughts, suddenly lifted his hood-covered head.

"Why do you challenge this alliance?" the priestess thundered.

"Because", Geer replied as he strode across the hall, followed by his soldiers, "there is no sense to forge a marriage when the husband can be dead tomorrow."

Again the hall gasped. Swords flashed out and Kaaz could hardly keep himself from leaping at Geer and clawing him barehanded into death. The priestess, however, remained calm and silenced the hall with a wave of her carved cane.

Queen Saar Tariz-Dav stepped forward and thundered in her imposing manner: "How dare you to speak that way! We all well know that the Clan Riik-Kit is below the name of Honorless, but nobody could even imagine their spawn to sink this low!"

The Riik-Kit warriors, who had been unnervingly calm this far, suddenly revealed their weapons and one even started to advance at Saar - only to fall back with McGer's blade suddenly awfully close to his throat. This protective move made Geer's warriors nervous. The Black Talon could have slain twice their number and would not even be breathing hard in the end.

Though the flash in the Black Talon's eyes sent a shudder through the wings of Geer, the prince of Riik-Kit remained calm. "I have a reason", he said. Turning to face Kaaz he continued: "I am here to test if you are worth of this maiden. By the rights of honor, Kaaz Tariz-Dav - " his tone was ominous as he said the name " - I challenge you to the Duel of the Changing Winds!"

The crowd gasped. Some of them muttered angrily at the impudence of this prince, others nodded, approving his courage. Of all the ritual duels of the Awai, the Duel of the Changing Winds was the most serious and the most dangerous.

"Until the first wound?" the priestess asked. She, as well as everyone in the hall, knew what would be the answer.

Geer scowled at Kaaz, who answered more than just in kind. Both of them shouted the answer at the same time:

"Until death!"

Visit Arcahan's Lair Main Page Return to My Stories E-mail Arcahan