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original group, so he could only assume that they had met up with more warriors on their way

home.

He swallowed hard, his fingers feeling at the knot of rope that bound his hands behind his

back. He had to escape. He had to. Desperately his fingers tried to work at the rope, but it was

hopeless, he soon realized. The rope was without slack, no matter how he twisted, and the knot

just out of his reach.

He sagged for a moment, then tried to bring his heels up to his fingers. Even if he could

release his feet—

A hiss of breath close by made him freeze; then a faint groan behind him made him roll to

face the sound in defense.

His eyes widened, and he tried to move over the ground as best he could.

“Commander,” he whispered.

Tanyan's face was covered with dirt, as though he had been thrown here or perhaps had

struggled against his captors, and his cheek held a darkening bruise.

Anyar felt a swelling fury then, that this man of greatness should be treated so.

Blue eyes slowly opened and focused on the young guard. His lips curved in a pained

grimace.

“Anyar.” Tanyan's self-anger grew as he looked at the worried golden eyes of the younger

man. If he had not been so foolish, so self-absorbed, this would not have happened. He had been

caught like the greenest of recruits, and Anyar had been brought into it purely by his association

with the commander. Tanyan felt deeply responsible for the boy and vowed that somehow,

someway, he would find a way to see them both free and home again.

Anyar shot a look over his shoulder at the Nazarians, then leaned closer to Tanyan. “If I

could undo your hands, Commander, we might have a chance. Roll over.”

Biting his lip against the pain of bruised and perhaps cracked ribs, Tanyan did so and felt

the young guard do likewise. Slim fingers brushed against his own and began to worry at the

knot of rope. He closed his eyes and prayed to any god that might be listening.

Anyar bit his lip and forced his blood-starved fingers to work despite the pain, his eyes

fixed on the Nazarians. He began to despair as he made no progress, then suddenly something

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gave; the knot loosened just a tiny amount, enough to give him hope. He scrabbled harder, his

heart jumping as the rope fell away. He lay motionless, watching the enemy as he felt Tanyan

curl to work on the ropes that bound his feet. Although it felt like hours, it was only minutes until

he felt his own bonds being worked on, and soon he winced as circulation began to restore itself

in his wrists.

“I am going to try to gradually work my way behind the tree, Anyar; then you do the same,

and if we keep the tree between us and them…”

Anyar nodded, lying still so his body shielded Tanyan's movements. When the hiss came

for his own turn, he moved gradually, a bit at a time, so that if anyone looked his way, it would

seem he lay in the same position as before. Just before he reached the tree, he carefully undid the

strap that held his wings prisoner.

Slowly, carefully, he slid next to Tanyan, then sat up, shaking with reaction.

He stood up with relief, surprised to see Tanyan still sitting.

He offered his hand, and the commander stood up with difficulty, breathing harshly.

Anyar's heart plummeted.

“You are injured?” he questioned hesitantly, fearing to insult Tanyan, but unsure how to

proceed.

Tanyan nodded. “I cannot fly far, but…”

Anyar cast an anxious look to the west, toward home. “We can take it in stages and maybe

walk in between.”

Tanyan held a hand to his ribs and cast a quick glance back at the camp. “We must hurry.”

He took a shallow breath, as though preparing himself, then stepped out from the reach of the

tree and sprang into flight, Anyar close behind.

Vanyae startled at the sound of wings, then watched in disbelief as the two figures rose

into the sky.

His snarl of fury alerted the others, and they ran to horses.

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“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Vanyae castigated himself. He should have seen to it that the

prisoners were separated, but he had not thought of it at the time and had been too busy

afterward to see to it himself.

“Damn, damn, damn.” He leaned over his horse's neck and, following the escapees, noted

with satisfaction how the one listed as he flew.

“He will not get far,” he yelled over his shoulder at Serin.

“Yes, but the other—”

“He will not leave his commander.” Vanyae could only hope he had read the young guard's

character correctly, or his prize could be lost. Vanyae would take to the skies if he had to, and he

knew he and his men were faster fliers, but it would be a battle to recapture the young Melanian,

given his noted skills in the air. Vanyae had no wish to see his men harmed in the taking.

He settled his stallion into a steady gallop, kept his eyes pinned on their targets, and called

over his shoulder to Serin.

“Prepare the darts.”

Anxiously realizing that Tanyan was faltering already, his wing beats erratic and unsteady,

Anyar slowed his pace. He circled back to his commander.

“You can do it, sir. Keep it up.” He tried to keep his tone without doubt.

Tanyan looked at him with a pained grin, sweat streaming down his face as he labored.

“Don't humor me, boy. I am not a fool.” He shook his head at Anyar's shamed flush. “You are

doing your best, Anyar. Don't take my words as anything but camaraderie, all right?”

The young guard nodded, then glanced back, his eyes widening. “They are coming.” His

voice shook a little, despite his best efforts.

“Horses or flying?” Tanyan clipped out.

“Horses, sir,” Anyar reported, steadying himself with the commanding tone.

“They will only fly if they think they cannot get us down, and right now I am low enough

that their darts can reach me, so—”

Anyar looked at him askance. “Darts, sir?”

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“That is how they got me in the courtyard. I fought them, but the drugs…” He shrugged

and flinched at his own foolishness at such a move.

He looked at Anyar with a frown. “If they get me, you have to stay out of range, you have

to go.”

Anyar met his eyes with a gleam of stubbornness in the depths that Tanyan had not noticed

in the boy before.

“I will not leave you, sir. We are in this together, and together we get out or not at all.”

“I command—” Tanyan gasped, his right wing faltering completely as a stab of pain from

his ribs rendered him speechless. He plummeted immediately and hoped that he could at least

find the strength to glide to the ground rather than crash. He was not sure he could survive such a

blow as that.

Suddenly a body was beneath him, wings under his own, steadying him.

“Hold to me, sir. Let me take your weight.”

“Impossible…” Tanyan gasped but, dazed, did as the boy asked.

The immense black wings drummed harder, and to Tanyan's complete amazement, they

began to rise in the air. He folded his own wings back against his body, so as to not foul Anyar's

wing beats and laid his head on the boy's back.

He could feel the boy's efforts, the muscles under his chest flexed powerfully, and he

marveled.

Vanyae watched in amazement, for the moment too astounded to even swear at the fact

that his quarry had once more gone out of reach of their darts.

“Your pet is full of surprises,” Serin remarked grimly. “Will his next trick be to disappear?

We have to get Tanyan back. Everything depends on that.”

Vanyae grimaced. Was there a slight hint of accusation in his commander second's tone? If

Vanyae had not suggested taking the boy, then Tanyan would not have been able to escape.

He spared a glare for his companion, then motioned to one of the men carrying a dart gun.

“Give me one of those.” It was handed over as Vanyae drew his horse to a halt. He slung it over

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his shoulder, then stood on the saddle and leaped into the air. He heard Serin follow suit, and

perhaps several others, but he was too intent to look back.

He was well-known as the fastest flier in Nazar, and the boy would soon discover that.

Anyar was focused utterly on his task, but his ear was tuned to the sound of wing beats.

Now that they were too high for the darts, the Nazarians would have to take to the skies, and

their superior numbers would be Anyar's downfall. Hampered as he was with Tanyan's weight,

he would not be able to fight.

As though his thoughts were echoed in his commander's mind, Tanyan's voice sounded in

his ear, harsh with pain.

“You have to set me down, Anyar. You cannot fight them this way.”

Realizing the reality of the situation, the young guard swore under his breath. He looked

down at the plains beneath, desperately trying to find something, someplace that he could

defend.

Far below, a river turned back on itself and formed a small island in the middle. He closed

his wings and dived, lips thin with determination.

“Hold on, Commander,” he yelled over the wind, then pulled from the dive hard, managing

by a miracle not to stumble as he landed.

Tanyan had braced himself and timed his own landing so he took the weight off Anyar at

the crucial time. He collapsed to his knees, gasping with pain.

He looked up as Anyar touched his shoulder tentatively. “I will do my best, Commander. I

promise.”

Tanyan took his hand in his. “You have no weapons, Anyar. This is futile. Perhaps we

should just surrender and try again when I am healed.”

“They amputate wings, Commander. I will not let them do that to us.” Anyar's voice was

hard with determination. “I would die first.”

“That may be a viable option, my young friend.” Tanyan sounded weary beyond measure.

“Rather than face what they have planned, I admit death sounds sweet. I would not be a weapon

against Melan.” He looked up and pulled Anyar's face down to his, bestowing a gentle kiss upon

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the soft lips, managing a smile at the look of wonder on the young guard's face, the way he

touched his lips as he straightened.

Anyar smiled then. “I would die happy with this upon my mind.”

“Let us hope for better things, young one. I would rather live and know your touch than die

and know only this last kiss. Let us hope.”

His words gave strength to Anyar. He nodded, then with a last, longing look, sprang into

flight once more.

Tanyan managed to make it to his feet and sought shelter against the embankment, the

most defensible position available.

Anyar rose in the air, gasping as he saw the sheer speed of the Nazarians stooping from

above him. Despair enfolded him then. There were four of them, and with their smaller wings,

they would be able to maneuver much faster than he.

The first arrived, straight at him, and he gasped and rolled sharply, feeling the other brush

by close enough to scrape his skin. Then another glanced off his wing, so that he cried out at the

sudden pain. They kept going, and he turned midair and went after them, desperate to protect

Tanyan, only to be hit in the middle of his back so hard, he thought his spine snapped. He folded

against the pain and dropped, feeling someone close behind him. Sharply then he snapped his

wings open and veered to the right, rolling as he felt hands on him.

Furiously he buffeted a wing tip over the man's head, and the Nazarian reeled back, only to

have another take his place.

This one Anyar recognized, the envoy from the courtyard.

This one, eyes wild and mad with the thrill of the chase, grinned at him, and Anyar felt his

stomach drop with fear. This was a true hunter. And he was the prey.

Anyar sprang upward, wings beating strongly. In this he knew he would be superior, his

power due to his huge wings. If he could just get higher…

His usual grace was gone; tired from the effort of carrying Tanyan, he was slower, and he

felt the other one keeping close behind. Desperate, he wheeled and rolled, trying to shake his

pursuer. Several times a hand touched his booted foot, and he would kick in reaction and either

stoop or try to dive and roll. Beginning to panic at the realization that his pursuer was now as fast

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as he was and probably much more experienced in flight battle, he tried to calm himself, but fear

was riding him hard, taking his strength.

Something flashed in front of him, and he flinched away, stalling in the air, and

immediately he was grasped from behind, white wings tangling with his black ones. Strong arms

wrapped around his chest, and he frantically attempted to wrench himself free.

A low laugh sounded in his ear, and legs wrapped around his, pulling his body into an

intimate embrace. He felt the other man's erection pressing against his buttocks.

“Do you know this is how our mutual ancestors mated?” The question was breathy and

filled with anticipation. “Would you like to re-create history, little one?” The hips flexed