Legend of Ransera

A creature clawed its way out of the ruins of Avaelor’s capital. It was a horror of smoke, fire, rage, and death. It rampaged across the ruins of the old country, devouring all in its path, body and soul. Some believed it to be a corrupted dragon. Others believed it to be a god gone mad. It was a mouth—a hungry, devouring mouth—a pit like those described by poets imagining the infernal realm. It ate a person and stole the promise of the Grimlord, the natural, terrible order of things. He died. She died. He died. He died. She died. There were so many attempts to conquer the thing. It strode to the fissure, no more than man-high yet terror seemed to go before it. They could see the furnace-fire of its eyes from afar; its arms were very long; it had a red tongue. No, that wasn't it. He died many more times. Each of their death screams was taken into its choral voice. Noble elves and new races fell before it. She was screaming. She was screaming. She was...

Emmerich and his band of followers offered themselves to the infamous necromancer. He gave them new bodies and new powers, but his first gift was...


The wind blew harsh and cold over the escarpment. Kaus was alone with the runestone erected to memorialize his father. He was never alone, but his sister...

His sister...

He looked up and there were no stars in the sky, only the bluster of storms. The light was strange. The rock was empty but for the reminder of his father whose bones had been picked clean by raptors and carrion eaters as was their custom. For a moment, when his eyes lowered from the roil, he thought he saw Saedene's relic, but no.

"Ho, Stormrider," called a weary voice.

Kaus turned, saw an old man in rags that were once finery hobbling toward him. He descended a few determined steps and offered his arm, wings mantling to protect his spindly limbs and swollen joints. His skin wasy gray, his beard white. He looked like death. A wheezing chuckle came from the man like some broken-down accordion even as he took advantage of the proffered arm.

"Like death, aye," he said wryly. "Dead, actually."

"Grandfather," he called him in the manner of the mountain folk, "you shouldn't be out here in the elements..." He was confused, but also accepting of the fact his thoughts could be read by this man.

"I was young once," he protested. "Strong, like you. Athletic, even." He pinched Kaus' bicep, hardened by years of training, training meant to make up for his literal shortcoming. "I am beyond Mythori's reach. He's dead anyway, same as I. You, though. You are alive and you have a task... if you want it. A task for one of Garel's angels. You with your manners like one of Avaelor's paladins..." He laughed until he was breathless. It didn't take long.

"I don't understand." Kaus' voice echoed back from the mountainsides even though he hadn't raised his voice. Even though the winds were raging around them. "I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't understa—"

Stop. There was a flicker of power in the old man, and it silenced the young Avialae. Then he crumpled, leaning into Kaus' youthful strength. "I'm dead... or still dying... parts of me remain... But... that doesn't matter now. You must go to the place where the sky was torn open to spill the Mists. From there, find the dragon who oughtn't to be there. Whitescale. Subdue him and perhaps spring will return."

Lightnight flashed blinding him.

He was in darkness.

Seek the dragon white as winter... Spring must come again...

He was in darkness.


Kala's eyes were old as stars as she watched him, perched on the edge of his bed. Her hand rested on his hand.

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where," she said calmly, quoting one of his poems back at him—a poem, a koan, a way to calm his careening heart. He died over and over again with their forebears. He died with their father in service to the dead Shokaze. Everything was death and dying. Winter wasn't supposed to last this long.

He took a breath. He answered.

"I love you directly without problems or pride:
I love you thus because I know no other way to love,
except in this form in which there is no me or you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine..."

She smiled and finished, "So close that your eyes close with my dreams."

He reached up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. It wasn't strange to see folded wings framing her face any longer; she had always had wings—it had only taken Garel of Atoria to manifest them. She shook her head at the unasked question; she hadn't shared his dream, but she felt everything around the edges. If it were a message from the Gods or not, it certainly felt much as her own quest from Mother Naori had felt, and so they must act accordingly.

Kala bent down to kiss his brow where the perspiration was already beginning to cool and evaporate. Her hair tickled at his chin.

His sister rose and went to write a letter to Minister Dornkirk, and Kaus threw open the casement and fell out into the night, wings spreading to catch the air, blade appearing from the aether.

Kaus had to train. There was a dragon to subdue.


The Blue Star flew south and west one night, and straight on until morning. Whatever she had written, the words of Lady Kala of House Leukos held weight with the Zaichaeri First Minister despite the enmity that remained between that nation and Kalzasi. Kaus would have flown directly, but there were the exigencies of mortal politics and she could have stopped him if she wanted to. She wouldn't. This way, though, the Zaichaer Air Defense Corps wouldn't shoot them down and three Avialae would have safe passage into Zaichaeri territory.

What could go wrong?

Kaus' eyes were slits against the wind and sun, gazing in the direction of the dragon. He felt it, straining against restraints, physical and otherwise. He didn't know what was going on. He didn't know details. What he knew was a soul-deep thing beyond words. Thankfully, his twin understood him on a soul-deep level beyond words. She had tried to merely get Blue Star passage through their skies now that they were once more patrolled with some regularity, if not their old frequency, and permission for an Avialae to fly those skies without incarceration or hindrance.

But Dornkirk had invited them to the Sky Islands, and she couldn't exactly refuse and maintain his good graces. So, instead of three Avialae, there were two. She accompanied her brother because hers was the face Dornkirk trusted and her brother's focus seemed entirely fixed on the divine quest he felt he carried like a geas.

When Blue Star docked, her wings were hidden under her cloak's glamour, but Kaus' were clearly visible. They were not hiding him. She might, if circumstances required it, show her own to the First Minister. He was unlikely to send her to the Imperium in chains, and he didn't seem likely to have an Avialae-breeding program of his own. Relationships required trust, and she was brave or foolish enough to take that first step.

Asallon remained behind. If he didn't debark, he wouldn't be required to put himself upon the Order's books. Even without wings, he was clearly not human and had no desire to partake of Zaichaeri hospitality. He merely wanted to remain nearby should his goddess and friends need him.

She waited, wanting permission to step upon their flying island. Kaus stood behind her and to the side, showing more deference than he normally would. It might settle their fears if he seemed a tamed pidge. From what he gathered, Talon's trip to the Brass City had been a diplomatic nightmare. He could do better.

On the island, Sentinel Angevin was picking a bit of lint from his brother-in-law's shoulder even as he concentrated upon the mutable ward he had fashioned around him. There were magics unknown to the Order—at least, they hadn't any semblers who had witnessed them and could pass on what they felt like, so he couldn't ward against, say, time magic, but he was suiting the man up with invisible armor should his faith in the foreign woman prove misplaced.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Dornkirk's judgment, exactly, but it was his job to be certain.

"Blue Star has been sighted, sirs," said Dienerin.

Eitan left his brother-in-law to check on his own wife, who was swelling once more with child. Supper would be, he hoped, when they could all come together again—unless Stefan invited the foreign noblewoman to supper. Delia's rising was as graceful as she could manage with her center of gravity once more off kilter, but she seemed comfortable enough as they made their way to the meeting. For a minister focused more on the interior, it would be a nice change to be with her husband for exterior matters of state. She did him proud standing there on the dock, beautiful of course, strong and elegant in impending motherhood. Delia Dornkirk was a boilerplate for Zaichaeri femininity.

Kala Leukos might have seemed scrawny and coltish in comparison, but her foreign dress draped off of her to create a silhouette with gravitas despite her young age. Her wings were hidden beneath Torin's cloak and charms as powerful as Great House Briathos could manage; Sahfri still took secrecy to new levels, wanting to protect Kala as an asset to the race.

Kaus debarked first, then offered his sister his hand, then his arm, as they approached. Everything was civil, even the young Avialae lord who knew how hated he was in Zaichaer. Kala was warm with Stefan, though, and tentatively so with his wife. Delia was far too polite to make Kaus feel uncomfortable, and the women stopped as one, each interrupting a compliment from the other with regard to raiment. Kaus cracked a smile at that.

Delia had refreshments at the ready should her husband invite the dignitaries for such, but she knew this Kaus Leukos was apparently here present with a quest from the gods. Such a quest might be met with disdain if not for the fact that it would conveniently ameliorate at least one problem facing the High City. Perhaps he would want to be off immediately. Certainly, she would breathe a bit more easily if the winged man was sent away to kill or be killed while they enjoyed conversation and, perhaps, trade negotiations with Vice-Minister Leukos.

Unheard by the rest, Kala also greeted the winged spirit that always flew within Stefan's orbit like an albatross to a ship upon the sea.

Your nephews... how do you think they will handle it?

A line of worry appeared between her brows as she took in the ghost's worry and anger, and she attempted to silently soothe him. Unfortunately, to communicate more clearly with him, she would have to divest herself of the Dornkirks and meditate. Perhaps later.

"I may look delicate, Minister," she chided gently and with good humor, "but it would take more than a ride on an airship to wear me out. In any case, you all have worked so hard for so long, even were I weary, I would feel it incumbent upon me to work through my weariness by your example. I am at your disposal either as Vice-Minister of Finance for Kalzasi or as my mother's empowered agent. As for Kaus..."

She glanced to him, allowing him to speak for himself.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Ministers," he said, including Delia in his nod of gratitude. "I know how Zaichaer feels about me and mine, and I know that attempts to co-exist peacefully have often fallen apart, but I hope to set a better precedent. And while my sister will surely find mutually beneficial arrangements for you, I am here to deal with your dragon problem and would fain see that work complete."

Kala nodded, pleased with her brother's diplomacy. He often felt like a sword and nothing but a weapon. It was good to have proof to point to otherwise.

"Perhaps he ought to be escorted toward that problem, but I would love to see the Windworks and anything else you would like me to see. And await your finance minister's leisure, though it will feel odd not to speak directly with you. But I have had to learn to delegate. I can only imagine how much moreso 'tis required of you."

She hated that she couldn't be standing by, at least, while Kaus flew into danger, but he hated that she would be at the mercy of a people who would hate her as much as or more than they hated him if they became aware of her wings and her divinity. There was no mutually beneficial solution to that conundrum. They had merely to play their roles, as was ever the case.

Kala nodded, accepting the schedule, and watched quietly as Kaus handled himself. His wings were not shrouded from view, and she felt guilty that hers were. But she had a good feeling about Stefan Dornkirk, and she thought that eventually, she might be able to break his family secret to him without undue negative effects, which might lead to peace between their nations.

"Of course, First Minister," Kaus replied with a bow of respect. "If you will forgive my alacrity, I should like to see to my purpose. My sister will be far superior company until I have accomplished what I came to do. Minister." He bowed to Delia Dornkirk, who nodded graciously. "Sister."

With that, he moved with a military economy of movement that even Stefan would have to admire.

"Little brothers," Kala said softly, with a lilt of humor and a touch of compassion, knowing the story of Brenner Dornkirk. While he had committed crimes against her nation, she could still empathize with Stefan's loss, and if he could see Kaus through her eyes, through the eyes of an elder sibling, perhaps there would be hope for them all. In fact, Kaus was taller than her by quite a bit, and only younger by minutes, but that was part of the joke.

Kala worried after her brother, and wondered if their bond would become too tenuous for her to feel his emotional state. In any case, she had to trust him. If he was called to action by a dead god, then his safety was in powerful hands.

Kaus thanked the soldier who brought him to the airship and called up to the captain, "Permission to come aboard, captain?" He would not make a social faux pas if he could help it; he already was a social faux pas in Zaichaer.

Later, when Delia could speak privately with her husband for a moment, she sighed.

"It is irksome to admit, husband, but I like her."