details later. They well knew where his mind lay, and it was not on the peace talks.
The sheer arrogance of the Melanians was breathtaking. Their demands for what this
“peace” would entail were vast, complicated, and utterly unreasonable.
Vanyae's lips curved faintly. If he had been serious about these talks, then he would have
been angry and frustrated. As it was, he was simply further convinced that his father's decision
was the right one. He had protested at first, but in the end he had seen the sense of it and
capitulated. This constant warfare was useless and counterproductive to the prosperity of Nazar.
It would be stopped.
Vanyae controlled his impatience with the ease of long practice. As with everything,
timing was crucial.
His fingers caressed the pendant at his throat, and the familiar motion calmed him further.
The voices rose and fell around him, and he let his gaze roam over the assembled
Melanians until it fell upon their high commander, Tanyan.
Cold blue eyes met his own and took his measure. Vanyae nodded faintly in recognition of
the other man's power and stature. It was returned stiffly, almost reluctantly, hatred veiled.
Vanyae smiled within, his face showing nothing.
The Melanian would learn what true hatred felt like.
Wings
5
* * * * *
lushness and serenity much needed by the Nazarians. The bare plains and vast sweep of the land
where the town of Cewa lay were foreign to them, barren of beauty in their critical eyes.
They took respite in this almost familiar landscape, stretching tired muscles and quietly
speaking among themselves about results of the talks, the responses, and topics they would need
for the next day.
Vanyae ignored them; with hands behind his back, he wandered slowly about the area,
listening to the water in the small waterfall built into one wall.
He was as aware of each of the Melanian guards ranged discreetly about the courtyard as
he had been of the guards who had been in the meeting room and those who had trailed them
here. They did their jobs well. Always watching but never too close for comfort or to the point of
insult. These men would have orders to retain their posts and report anything unusual in the
Nazarians' behavior or words. Tanyan was good with his training, it seemed. More reason to
admire the man as much as an enemy could.
Vanyae came to the waterfall and stood there with eyes closed, letting the faint spray cool
his face, wishing he were home. This little re-creation was as close as he could get right now, so
he endured with a soft sigh. Soon this would be over.
The faintest rustle of wing feathers alerted him, and his eyes snapped open, his hand going
to his sword instinctually.
His eyes locked with golden ones, and he froze, prepared to lunge…and then restrained
himself with difficulty.
Gradually, his heart slowed, and he straightened with expressionless calm, realizing what
had happened.
One of the guards had been posted by the waterfall apparently, and in his abstraction,
Vanyae, not even seeing the man in the shadows, had come uncomfortably close. He could not
get used to the Melanians' damned coloring, but this one was even more different, a creature of
shadow rather than light.
Black wings…
6
J. C. Owens
He had never seen true black wings before, though he had seen very dark ones in Melanian
captives.
His second perusal took in that this guard was very young and trying hard not to show it,
but his nervous breathing showed inexperience and alarm at this situation and the overly close
presence of his enemy.
Vanyae noted something else, though.
There was no hatred in this one as seethed through the others in such degree that Vanyae
could almost taste it. This one held many emotions in those strange eyes, but not the most
common one.
Intrigued, Vanyae turned away and, sitting on the bench provided at the base of the
waterfall, let his wings open fully and rest along the back, so the flight feathers almost brushed
the young guard's thigh.
He let his eyes fall almost shut again, though he could see the Melanian clearly enough out
of the corner of his eye.
The young man gradually calmed from his tenseness, discreetly rubbing his right hand
down his breeches to wipe away the clammy sweat before returning his fingers to the hilt of his
sheathed sword in the standard stance.
Vanyae smiled inwardly, amused, as the guard's eyes dropped almost against his will to the
white wing so close to his left hand. The boy, for he was little more than that in Nazarian eyes,
seemed as fascinated with Vanyae's coloration as Vanyae was with his.
Those fingers twitched, and slowly, so slowly, they tentatively touched a white feather,
then quickly curled away. The boy's face flushed as he snatched his curious gaze away and stared
into the distance as a good guard should.
Vanyae's brow rose in faint wonder.
That had to be the first time in history that a Melanian had touched a Nazarian in anything
but anger.
He let his discreet gaze rove the guard in curiosity. The lad was tall for a Melanian, though
he would only come to Vanyae's shoulder. The envoy let his eyes follow the line of night black
wings from where they stood a foot over the young guard's head down to where they ended just
above the boy's boot heels. The wings themselves were broad and wide, strange to Nazarian
Wings
7
eyes. They had learned that Melanian wings were weapons in themselves, and this boy had a
prime set of them. The buffet from wings that large would easily send a grown man to the
ground. They were some of the largest Vanyae had seen, making the boy look almost fragile in
their shadow, and he wondered if they marked how he would be in adulthood, large and
powerful.
Hair as black as the wings was cut short, offending Vanyae's eye. He had always wondered
why the other race seemed to ruin their looks so deliberately by butchering their hair. Nazarians
never cut their hair unless to trim, and Vanyae's own hair curled down to his buttocks, providing
a tantalizing sensation when he walked naked.
He grinned to himself at the thought, wondering how shocked this young guard would be if
he knew what the enemy was thinking. Thoughts of sexuality brought his eye back to the young
man, and he idly roved the fine features.
Golden brown skin, so different from Vanyae's own whiteness, stretched over high, taut
cheekbones and down to a gentle mouth, one not drawn in a tight grimace of disapproval as the
other guards carried permanently. Vanyae's body reacted, and he felt stunned amazement that he
could feel a jolt of lust for an enemy. Still, he could appreciate beauty, surely, wherever it might
be found, and this boy was beautiful. As shown by the sleeveless tunic, his body was slender and
coated with the muscles of a natural athlete, not the harshly defined musculature of the hardened
soldier. He had not yet had time to develop such a thing. He was clearly as nature had intended
him to be, not carved from necessity and strife.
Such purity made Vanyae's breeches suddenly feel tight, and he cursed under his breath.
So intent had he been on this mission that he had not seen to his needs before he left Nazar.
Surely that was the only reason he could feel such things here, now, at such an inappropriate
moment.
He tried to steer his thoughts away from such dangerous channels. He let his eyes slide to
the other guards some distance away and noted other differences. The others tended to keep their
wings up high behind their shoulders, slightly up and out in an almost unconscious display of
aggression, while the young guard kept his clamped tight against his body—a sign of
uncertainty, or was his coloration strange here too? Was he mindfully trying to hide his own
wings?
8
J. C. Owens
Vanyae mused lightly over the matter, his fingers drumming on the wood of the bench.
Slowly his fingers stopped as a thought entered his mind, a small thought that grew. This young
guard made his lust rise as it had not in many years, and would it be so difficult to…? At first he
resisted the thought, but his father had wanted a second hostage, someone to keep Tanyan in line.
Why not this boy?
He rose to his feet, but only after completely committing the young guard's face to
memory. He would make sure Serin and Sindin saw him also. If the opportunity should arise…
Anticipation made a smile grow on his lips, and he felt lighter in himself, interested in
something personally for the first time in far too long.
* * * * *
reluctant admiration. The man was beautiful in a deadly, frightening kind of way, the way you
admired a predator from a healthy distance and with wary respect. His sudden response to
Anyar's unintentionally hidden presence had been that of a warrior, and Anyar could only be
thankful the Nazarian was experienced enough to hold his attack. The results if he had followed
through on his startled defense would have been disastrous indeed, yet another incident between
the two races causing ill feeling.
Fortunately they had been shielded enough by the trees that none of the other guards
seemed to have noticed his error in standing in the shadows and startling the envoy so badly.
He swallowed hard, chastising himself. His inattention to detail of such things had almost
led to the very failure of himself he so feared. He would be more careful from now on. He would
make himself be someone Commander Tanyan could rely on.
* * * * *
both to relieve himself and then bathe. The heat was already rising off the plains, and he longed
for home, for lush coolness and beauty rather than this barren desolation. Soon, he assured
himself, soon.
Serin and Sindin joined him in the bathing chambers, and they discussed the day's
activities, both planned and unplanned. They were cautious about his mention of the boy; they
Wings
9
had hoped to take the second hostage as someone simply in the vicinity when the kidnapping
took place.
Vanyae only shrugged. He would do everything he could to ensure that his new plan was
seen to, but he would not endanger the original for his own wants. He rose from the water. After
he dried himself off he shook his wings. After dressing with care for appearance and effect, he
then walked out onto the balcony and spread his wings to dry. On the ground, to the right and
some distance away, the guards were already out and practicing, and Vanyae watched idly,
aware that his own guards were watching every nuance of the Melanians' moves from elsewhere
on the huge balcony. He was not terribly interested until he caught a flash of black wings; then
his attention sharpened, and he leaned over the stone railing, intent…
Cautiously circling Meel, Anyar held his dagger out and to the right. The other man was
well-known as the best knife fighter in Melan, and he had come with Commander Tanyan's
forces.
Anyar knew he had been forward, and perhaps out of character for himself, by approaching
the great man and shyly asking if he had time to show them several practice moves, but he had
been desperate to learn. Besides, Meel had been standing close by Tanyan himself. The chance to
be that much closer to his idol had driven Anyar to lengths he would never have ordinarily
considered.
Meel had actually smiled at him, not in the least taken aback by his request, and Tanyan
had actually turned then and looked, truly looked, at Anyar, his blue eyes flicking up and down
the young guard's body with a hint of interest.
It had been all Anyar could do to retain thought and back away properly and with some
form of grace.
That Meel had asked Anyar to help him in the demonstration had completely stunned him
speechless, and he prayed desperately that he not make a complete fool of himself in front of the
others, many of whom thought him less than worthy of his new place in the guard's ranks. His
uncle had taught him how to fight with a knife, and although he knew he had much to learn, he
was not a complete novice in the art.
He and Meel circled as the older man explained out loud the various distinct maneuvers he
was showing. He did them in slow motion, then faster and faster, until they were real time.
10
J. C. Owens
Anyar focused utterly on the instructions, and when Meel began to incorporate the moves into
sequences and patterns, he followed the other man's lead, soon finding he had the rhythm and