Wolf Who Rules

Chapter 8: Calling The Wind

She had to learn not to be surprised when Windwolf popped up at odd times.

She was stretched out on the back room’s floor, making a copy of her grandfather’s spell. Her attempts with a camera failed, the magical interference corrupting the digital image. After what it had done to the camera, she decided against bringing in her datapad to scan it. Instead she had Reinhold’s find a roll of brown packaging paper. She covered the floor with paper, and now was making a tracing by simply rubbing crayons lightly across the paper, pressing harder when she felt the depression of the spell tracings. Working with the damaged spell made her nervous, and her dress was driving her nuts, so she stripped down to underwear and socks and Oilcan’s t-shirt.

She’d worn the black crayon out, so she upended the box, spilling the rest of the crayons out onto the floor beside her. The array of colors splayed out on the floor shoved all other thoughts from her mind. She used to make magic pencils by mixing metal filings into melted crayons, poured into molds and then wrapped with construction paper. The only bulk supply of crayons were the packs of sixty-four different shades, which she would separate into the eight basic colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, black and white. It got so she could look at a spray of crayons and see those eight — but she was seeing twelve now.

Since becoming an elf, she knew she saw the world slightly differently. Things she thought were beautiful had been suddenly nearly garish or clashed weirdly. This was the first time that she had proof that Windwolf had somehow changed her basic vision.

“There you are,” Windwolf’s voice came from above her.

She glanced up to find him standing beside her. “What are you doing here?”

“I was told that you were here — drawing pictures — mostly naked.”

“Pfft.” She focused back on the paper, not sure how she felt about knowing that her vision been changed. In a way, it was like getting glasses — right? “I only took my boots, bra, and dress off.”

“I see.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him and blushed at how he was looking at her. “Hey!”

He grinned and settled cross-legged besides her, resting his hand on the small of her back. “This is an odd beast.”

It took her a moment to realize he meant the damaged spell, not her.

“Do you recognize it?”

“In a manner of speaking. It is not a whole spell.” He studied the circuits. “This is only an outer shell — one that control effects put out by another spell.”

She had been focusing on the various subsections and hadn’t realized that they didn’t form a complete spell. Her knowledge of magic came solely from experimentation and her family’s codex, which itself seemed to be an eclectic collection of spells.

“It’s possible that this machine sets up a spell-like effect.” Windwolf motioned to the compressor. “And this shell modifies that effect.”

“Oh, yes. The heat exchanger could be acting like a spell.”

“These are Stone Clan runes. See this symbol?” He traced one of the graceful lines. “This subsection has to do with gravitational force — which falls within earth magic.”

“I didn’t realize it was Stone Clan.”

“Where did you learn it?” he asked.

“My family has a spell codex that’s been handed down for generations.”

“This means that your forefather was a Stone Clan domana.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Such spells are closely guarded. The clan’s powers rest on the control of their element.”

“Maybe he stole it.” That appealed to her, a master thief as an ancestor.

“With your family’s sense of honor, that is unlikely.”

That pleased her more. She abandoned the tracing to roll over and smile up at him. “So my family is honorable, eh?”

He put his warm palm on her bare stomach to rub lazy circles there. “Very. It shows in everything you and your cousin do.”

“Hmm.” She enjoyed the moment, gazing up at him. The look in his eyes always made her melt inside. It still stunned her that someone could be directing such love toward her. How did she get so lucky? Of course her brain cared more about puzzles. “But I couldn’t feel magic before you made me your domi.”

Windwolf shook his head. “The magic sense is a recessive trait. It would have quickly vanished in the following generations of mating with humans.”

“Would I be able to use their spell stones?”

“I doubt it very much.” Windwolf shook his head. “Only part of that is ability, though; the rest is politics. Even if you somehow retained the needed genes, the Stone Clan will not train my domi.”

“That’s a bitch.”

There was a slight noise and Windwolf glanced toward it. One of the sekasha that came with him, Bladebite, took up post by the door from the machine room into the warehouse. The pallets with the black willow filled the dim room now. The door out to summer was just a distant rectangle of light on the other side of the tree. For a moment, all of their attention was on the still tree. Thankfully, the siphons were working — she could sense no overflow of magic — and the tree remained dormant. She needed to finish up so they could kick on the compressor and take the refrigeration room down to freezing. The siphons should allow the compressor to work without the spell.

“I do not like you working close to that thing,” Windwolf said. “The sekasha would not be able to kill it if it roused.”

“I know. It usually takes dynamite and a bulldozer to take one down. But I think my dreams are saying that it’s a key to protecting what we have.”

“Dreams are hard to interpret.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. That’s one thing I did learn with the whole pivot stuff — this dream stuff is counter intuitive. What feels like the wrong thing is sometimes the right thing.”

The Queen’s oracle, Pure Radiance, had foreseen that Tinker would be the one person that could block the oni invasion of Elfhome — the pivot on which the future would turn. Oracles seemed to operate on the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle; apparently telling Tinker how she was going to stop the oni would keep Tinker from doing it. Considering Chiyo’s mind reading ability and Sparrow’s betrayal, it was just as well that the oracle had been obscure. Thinking back, though, Pure Radiance must have known more than she told Tinker; having Tinker dragged to Aum Renau and kept there for three weeks allowed Tinker to strengthen her body, build a strong relationship with Pony, and learn skills she needed to kill Lord Tomtom, the leader of the oni.

Nevertheless, the key to stopping the oni had been doing what they wanted her to do — which seemed to completely defy logic.

“At least travel with a full Hand,” Windwolf said. “Chose four more — any one of them would be proud to pledge to you.”

“I don’t want to take your people from you. Besides, didn’t you say that once I took Pony that I couldn’t set him aside without making him look bad? How could you give me yours without insulting them?”

“I can not give them to you. They must offer themselves to you. It is their hearts, which I can not rule, which you accept.”

There were times she felt like the conversation had been run through a translator one too many times. “How can I just choose four at random? Wouldn’t that be me asking and you giving?”

“They have let me know that if you need them, they would be willing to go. I have released all of them from their pledge so that they are free to go.”

“All of them?”

Windwolf nodded. “With the exception of Wraith Arrow. I need him. You have gained much respect with the sekasha. And I am greatly pleased.”

“Wow.”

“What do you think of Stormsong? Do you fit with her?”

Fit with her? That was an interesting choice of words. Not “like her” which was what she expected Windwolf to ask. “She’s a pistol. Sometimes it seems like she’s two different people, depending on which tongue she’s speaking.”

“A language can govern your thoughts. You can not think of something if you have no words for it. English is a richer language than Elvish, infused with countless other tongues over time. And in so many ways, English is freer. Elvish is layered heavily with politeness to enforce the laws of our society.”

Tinker considered. Yes, politeness came more readily to her when she spoke Elvish. It was only when she was using the very formal, very polite High Elvish that she noticed — and then it was because it felt like being handcuffed into being nice.

“I like speaking English with you,” Windwolf said. “I feel like I can just be me — the male that loves you — and not the lord and ruler of our household. That we show each other our true faces when we talk like this.”

“Yeah, I noticed that when Stormsong drops into High Elvish, it’s like she puts on a mask.”

“We speak so little High Elvish here compared to court. My mother says that this rough country is making me uncouth — I’m too plainspoken after being around humans so long. She expects me to come home wrapped in bearskins.”

She couldn’t believe that anyone could think of him, and all his smooth elegance, as uncouth. “Oh, please.”

“If you’re determined, you can be eloquently insulting in High Elvish. Court makes an art out of it. I don’t have the patience for that — which has earned me a label of boorish.”

“Idiots, they deserve a bloody nose.”

“My little savage.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. “I love you dearly — and don’t ever lose your fierce heart — but please, pick no fights, not until you’ve learned to defend yourself.”

She skirted promising him anything by kissing him.

“Are you done here?” He asked much later.

“With this part.” Reluctantly she slipped out of his arms to lift up the paper that had been covering the spell. “I dug through my grandfather’s things and found his notes on this project. I need to compare this to what he has and then fix it. I’ll finish it up tomorrow.”

“Good,” Windwolf said. “There is much we have to do and things I want to do. For instance, I want to talk to you about what direction we’re going with the computing center.”

“The what?” She asked before remembering. When she returned to Pittsburgh area during Shutdown, she realized that technology on Elfhome was non-existent. From electrical power to Pittsburgh’s limited Internet, everything went with the city when it returned to Earth. In a fit of panic, she’d razed ten acres of virgin forest and drafted a small army to start work on building infrastructure. Since she was kidnapped only hours into the project, she hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask belated permission let alone finish it. “Oh. That. I wasn’t sure — you know — if you even considered it a good idea.”

“I think it’s an excellent idea.”

“I haven’t even thought about it since that morning.”

“You left quite detailed plans.” He brushed his hand along her cheek. “I made a few changes and had it finished. I’d like to expand it, though, we probably should wait until the oni have been dealt with.”

“But Pittsburgh is kind of stuck here now. What’s the point?”

“The point is that Pittsburgh, right or wrong, feels too human for elves to make technology their own. It’s like our cooks in Poppymeadow’s kitchen; they can cook there, but it’s not their kitchen, so they bow out and eat whatever Poppymeadow’s staff makes. The changes I made to the computing center were ways to make it more comfortable for our people to use.”

“Wow, I never thought of that.” In truth, she wasn’t thinking about anyone but herself that morning. “How long do you think we can keep this level of technology, though, without Earth?”

“Once the oni are dealt with, we will find a way back to Earth.” Windwolf promised with his eyes.

“Pittsburgh is never going back. The only way to affect all of Pittsburgh is from orbit. Even if we managed to start a space program, we’d have to get the alignment perfect so the enclaves stay here and then sending Pittsburgh to the right universe…” She shivered. “I don’t want that kind of responsibility.”

“You and I can shake the universe until we find a way.” He kissed her brow. “But first things first. Come, get dressed, and let me teach you magic.”

Much to her surprise, he took her to the wide open field where they had been building the new Viceroy’s palace. Oddly, a gossamer was moored here instead of the Faire Grounds. They pulled to the edge of the abandoned project and got out of the Rolls. The entire thirty acres had been covered with sod.

“Why here?” She swung up onto the gray phantom’s hood. The wind swept woman of its hood ornament — the spirit of ecstasy — seemed so appropriate for the Wind Clan. She wondered if that was how Windwolf ended up with the Rolls Royces.

“The spell stones represent massive power,” Windwolf settled beside her on the hood. “Poppymeadow would probably be annoyed if you lost control of the winds in her orchard.”

There was a typical Windwolf answer. Did he sidestep the real question on purpose or was he teasing her with his very dry humor or did they just simply have a fundamental miscommunication problem?

“You’re going to teach me how to fly?”

“No.” He said slowly. “You will learn how, some day, but not from me, not today.”

Her disappointment must have showed, as he actually explained more.

“I have sent for a sepana autanat,” Windwolf told her. “But arrangements must be made, and such things take time.”

“A what?”

“He trains the clan children in magic.” He paused to search out the English word. “A teacher.”

“Oh.” She had so few teachers in her life that the idea of a total stranger teaching her was unsettling. “Can’t you just teach me yourself?”

“I wish I could, but there are things I don’t remember of the early lessons. And there were so many silly learning games we played that even now I don’t understand why we did them. I suspect that they were to teach focus and control.”

“What kind of games?”

He gave an embarrassed smile. “You will laugh.” He stood up, squared his shoulders, and closed his eyes. Taking a breath, he raised his hands to his head, and eyes still closed, splayed out his fingers like tree branches waving in a breeze. “Ironwood stand straight and tall.” He dropped his hands slightly so his thumbs were now in his ears, and he flapped the hands. “Gossamer flies over all.” Hands to nose this time. “Flutist plays upon his pipe. Cook checks to see if fruit is ripe.” He touched index fingers together. “Around and around, goes the bee.” He spun in place three times. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.”

He clapped five times and launched into the song again, faster this time, and then again, faster still. Windwolf was right; she had to giggle at him. He was so regally beautiful, yet he purposely used a childish singsong voice as he wiggled his fingers, spun in place, and clapped his hands. After the third round, he collapsed besides her, laughing. “Well, you’re supposed to do that faster and faster, until you’re too dizzy.”

“What is that supposed to teach you?”

“I don’t know.” He lay back onto the warm hood to watch the clouds roll overhead, considering. “I think — it might have been staying aware where your body is regardless of what you’re doing. That is very important in controlling magic. There is much for you to learn, and not all of it has to do with controlling the winds.”

She scoffed at that understatement. “I thought I knew a lot about elves, about clans and everything, but I’m finding that I don’t know anything at all. Like I didn’t know each clan had their own spells.”

Windwolf considered her for a moment, sadness gathering at the edges of his eyes. “Yes, there is so very much you need to learn. I suppose some history can not hurt, and probably help make sense of our people.”

She had heard one long history lesson from Tooloo, but Tooloo tended to twist things to her own unique way of looking at things. “Yeah, it might help.”

“In the beginning all elves were much like humans, as evidenced by the fact that we can still interbreed,” Windwolf started. “Perhaps — there is a chance — that the first elves were humans, lost through the gateways from Earth to Elfhome — or maybe humans are the ones that became lost. We were tribes scattered, hither and yon, and in our homelands, we practiced the magic that was strongest. Back then, magic was considered holy, and those that used magic were our priests, and they were the first of the clan leaders.”

This was different than what Tooloo had told her, in tone if not in fact.

“I don’t understand.” Tinker asked. “I thought all magic is the same. It’s just a general force harnessed by the mechanics of a spell.”

“Yes, and no. The Wind Clan spells have been refined for millennia, but they are based on certain natural properties. The Wind Clan, according to legends, started in the high steppe lands. For countless generations, those free-born tribes used their magic, and were slowly changed by it. That’s where the genetic stamp developed that allows you to key to one set of spell stones or another.”

“But didn’t the Skin Clans gather all those tribes together and force them to be the same?”

“They tried. They would conquer a tribe and do all they could to stamp out its culture. Burning temples. Killing the leaders, the scholars, and the priests. Skin Clan were ruthless masters, but we were not totally helpless. We managed to hide away some of our priests, keep them hidden for centuries. We formed secret societies that evolved into the clans. As slaves all we had to call our own was our life, our honor, and our pledge to protect and to serve. But those were weapons strong enough to overthrow the Skin Clan.”

“So — since everything had to be kept secret — ceremonies like weddings were a big no-no?” If so, then her marriage to Windwolf made a lot more sense.

“Yes, we could not afford to be discovered. Simple words, whispered between two people, were all we could trust.”

“How did the domana end up ruling?”

“The clan leaders realized that the only way we could win against the Skin Clan was to use their greatest abilities against them. Once the Skin Clan became immortal, they ordered all their bastards killed. We started to hide away healthy babies, offering up stillborn and deformed infants in their place. They were protected by the clan so that they could protect the clan.”

Tooloo had told her a version of this, only somehow not as noble, not so desperate. Quick Blade, Windwolf’s great-grandfather, had been one of the babies hidden away and died fighting for his adopted clan’s freedom.

“After we won the war with the Skin Clan, we suffered a thousand years of war between ourselves. Clan against Clan. Caste against Caste. Elf against Elf. We had lived so long in slavery that we had no idea how to be free. It was the sekasha that held us together — they demanded that the clan structure should be maintained when the other castes would have abandoned it.”

“I would have thought it was the domana that would kept the clans intact.”

“The other castes feared that we would become cruel monsters like our fathers. The sekasha guards us — from harm and from ourselves. More than one domana has been put down by his own Hand.”

“Why did sekasha want the domana in charge instead of just taking power themselves?”

It was as if Windwolf never considered the “why” of it. He frowned and thought for minute. “I am not sure. It is the way they wanted it. Perhaps it was because with the domana’s access to the spell stones, the sekashas’ choices were limited to putting the domana in power, destroying the stones, or killing all the domana. While they are sekasha first, they are fiercely loyal to their clans. It is their nature to be so. And as such, it would go against their nature to weaken their clan.”

“So the spell stones and the domana stayed.”

Windwolf nodded. “And we have had what passes as peace for thousands of years — because of the sekasha.”

Tinker glanced over to where Pony and Stormsong stood. Close enough to protect. Far enough away to give her and Windwolf a sense of privacy. Who was really in charge? On the surface, it would seem she was — but if she was — why was she stuck with sekasha watching her when she rather be alone?

“In the Westernlands, the Wind Clan has only the Spell Stones at Aum Renau.” Windwolf returned to his magic lesson. “On the other side of the ocean, there are many other sets. They are arranged so that our clan can travel widely and stay within range of a set.”

“What’s the range of a set?”

“The stones can reach one mei; Pittsburgh is one third mei from the coast.”

It finally explained one mysterious elfin measurement. Unlike human measurements which were exact, the mei was said to be roughly a thousand human miles but subject to change. At Aum Renau, Windwolf had shown her how he cast a trigger spell. It set up a quantum level resonance between him and the spell stones, in essence a conduit for the magic to follow. Power jumped the distance. It had been his demonstration at Aum Renau that had given her the idea of how to destroy both gates. Magic, though, could be influenced by the moon’s orbit and other factors, so the exact distance would be variable — which fit the quantum-based system.

The distance limit also explained why only two clans were coming to help them deal with the oni.

“So, the Stone Clan and Fire Clan have a set of stones within a mei?”

“Yes.”

“And spell stones from different clans can overlap.” Tinker wanted to be sure she had it right.

“Yes. The domana’s genetic key determines which one they pull from. The spells are slightly different. In the terms of battle, the Stone Clan is much weaker in attack, but they are superior in defense. Their specialty is mining, farming and architecture.”

Architecture was the forefather of engineering. It kind of made sense — her being Stone Clan and a genius in the hard science.

“Do we actually fight with them?”

“Yes and no. There has been no open warfare between the clans for two thousand years, not since the Fire Clan established the monarchy. To a human, that might be seem like lasting peace, but my father saw battle as a young man, and our battles have merely become more covert. Fighting is limited to assassinations and formal duels.”

The concept of elves wanting her dead was somewhat unnerving.

“You are under the Queen’s protection,” Windwolf continued. “So you will be fairly safe from the other clans for the time being. I want to teach you, however, a shielding spell so you can defend yourself.”

“Oh cool.”

He laughed and distanced himself from the Rolls. “Have you been taught the rituals of prayer?”

She nodded.

“Good. First you must find your center, just as you do for a ritual.” He stood straight and took a deep cleansing breath.

“Hold your fingers such.” He held out his right hand, thumb and index rigid, middle fingers cocked oddly.

She copied the position and he made minute changes to her fingers.

“Each finger has several degrees. Laedin.” He tucked her index finger into a tight curl, and then, gliding his finger along the top of hers, showed her that there needed to be a straight line from the back of her hand to the knuckle. “Sekasha.” He uncurled her finger to the second knuckle and corrected a slight tendency to bend at the first knuckle. “Domana.” He had to hold her finger straight so she only bent the tip. “Full Royal.” This was a stiff finger.

“Bows to no one,” Tinker said.

“Exactly. You must be careful with your hands. A broken finger can leave you defenseless.”

“The first step is to call on the Spell Stones. You use a full suit — king and queen” these were thumb and pinkie held straight out “Domana, sekasha, laedin.”

Tinker laughed as she tried to get her fingers to cooperate.

“There are finger games you can play to get them to do this fluidly.” He patiently corrected small mistakes in her hands. “In the base spells, correct positioning is not as vital, but later, a finger out of place will totally change the effect of your spell.”

“This does get easier?”

“Yes, with practice.”

“To calls winds and cast the spells, you need to hold your hand before your mouth.” He raised his hand to his mouth and demonstrated the desired distance and then dropped his hand to continue speaking. “Don’t touch your face with your hand, but you should feel as if you’re almost touching your nose. Also if you were to breathe out, like you blowing out a candle, the center point of your breath would hit this center joint of your fingers.”

“Okay.” She held up her hand and found it was harder to not touch her nose than she thought.

“When I was little, my brothers and I would practice fighting with each other and in the heat of battle, sometimes we ended up punching ourselves in the nose.”

Tinker laughed.

“Now, listen to the command to call the winds, and then to cancel.” He raised his right hand to his mouth. “Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaae.”

Tinker felt the tremor in the air around Windwolf, like a pulse of a bass amplifier, first against her magic sense, and then against her skin.

Mentally, she knew that his body was taking the place of a written spell; his voice started the resonance that would establish a link between him and the spell stones, over three hundred miles away. Despite everything she knew, his summoning of power out of thin air somehow seemed more magical than any act she ever witnessed.

He dismissed the power with another gesture and spoken command.

“Now, you try it.”

She felt the magic resonance deep in her bones, and then it bloomed around her, enveloping her. Carefully she dismissed it.

“Very good. Once you tap the stones, you are connected to them. That means you need to immediately use the power, or dismiss it. Casting a spell that you hold, like a shield, keeps the connection open until you end the spell. Casting a spell like a force strike breaks the link immediately.”

She nodded her understanding, trusting that when he taught her the various spells, he would tell which category they fell into.

“The shielding spell I’m going to teach you is the most basic of all the spells, but it is very powerful. With the power that the spell stones tap, it is nearly impenetrable.”

“Nearly?”

“I do not know anything that could breach it — but I am afraid that you might find something — so I put in a cautionary note.”

She stuck at her tongue at him. “You make me sound like a trouble maker.”

“You do not make trouble — it finds you. And it is always sorry when it does.”

She laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He kissed her then, making her melt against his body. They spent a few pleasant minutes kissing, and then he set her firmly down.

“You need to learn this, my love. You need to be able to protect yourself and your beholden.”

“Yeah, I know. Teach away. I’m all ears.”

“You summon the power and then shape it.” He called forth the power, paused deliberately, and the changed the position of his hand and spoke a new command. The magic pulsing with potential changed, distorting the air around them so they stood inside a transparent sphere.

He held his stance. “Nothing can get in unless you allow it. It will last as long as you desire — but you must be careful with your movements.” He moved slowly around to demonstrate the range of motion desired to maintain the shield. “Notice you must keep you hand in the correct position. If you shift your fingers or move your hand too quickly, you lose the connection for the shield.”

He flapped his hands loosely and the shields vanished.

“Ugh!” Tinker cried. “It seems dangerously easy to lose your shield when you least want to.”

“There are weaker shields that don’t require you to hold your position. The sekasha spell for example allows them to continue fighting without disrupting their shield. The difference in strength is —” he paused to consider a comparison. “— an inch of steel versus a foot.”

“Oooh. I see.” That messed with her head. She had assumed that sekasha provided protection to the domana during battle — keeping them safe as they called down lightening and such. It seemed that the truth was that the domana were heavy tanks during fighting. They were able to take massive damage as well as deal it. It seemed that the sekasha must be for day to day life, allowing the domana to sleep and eat without fear.

Windwolf called up the shield again and this time showed her how to properly cancel the shield. “It is best for you to get into the habit to intentionally drop the shield than just to relax your position.”

It seemed easy enough, once you got past bending your fingers into pretzels. Tinker managed to initialize the resonance conduit, trigger the shield spell, hold it for a minute, and then cancelled the shield spell.

“What about air? If you keep up the shield, do you run out of air?”

“No. Air slowly leeches in, as does heat and cold. The shield will protect you for a period of time in fire, but eventually the heat and smoke will overcome you.”

“Ah, good to know.”

“Someone comes.” Stormsong murmured softly, looking east.

The sekasha pulled in tight as they watched the eastern skyline.

“Listen,” Wraith Arrow said.

After a moment, Tinker heard the low drone of engines in the distance.

“It has to be the dreadnaught,” Windwolf said.

“They’re coming,” Tinker murmured, wondering who ‘they’ might be.

“Yes.” Windwolf tugged on her wrist. “We need to return to the enclave.”

Tinker glanced at him in surprise. She would have thought they would stay to greet the newcomers.

“I am not sure who the queen has sent,” Windwolf explained. “I want to look our best. Can you change quickly?”

She supposed it depended on your idea of quickly. “I think I can. What should I wear?”

“The bronze gown, please.”

“That’s not the most formal one I have.”

He smiled warmly at her. “Yes, but I love to see you in it.”

She blushed and tried not to worry about how she was going to get into the dress quickly.

As they got into the Rolls, a shadow passed overhead accompanied by the low rumble of large engines. A dreadnaught slid out from behind the hill to hover near the tree line. She’d forgotten how massive the blend of airship and armored helicopter was; it dwarfed the ironwoods, its four massive rotator blades beating a storm of leaves out into the meadow. Barrels of heavy guns bristled from the black hull, like the spiked hide of a river shark. The gossamer moored at the clearing stirred nervously in the presence of the large predator-like craft. As they watched, the mooring lines were cast off and the gossamer gave way to the dreadnaught.

The thumping of the rotors suddenly echoed into her memories of her dream. In the background, constantly, had been the same sound.

She shivered at the foreknowledge, and wondered what her dream had been trying to warn her of.