"Croix!  Croix!  Wake UP!"  Tieran's harsh voice, filled with fear and desperation, woke Croix from a sound sleep.  The Kalri'i girl raised herself from the bundle of rags where she had laid curled, wings spread over herself to conserve warmth.
        "Croix!!!"  Tieran tore around the corner of the stairs to the ruined gable that Croix and her gang used as an aerie.  Most of the others were sleeping as well, some rousing to rub sleepy eyes at Tieran's frantic calls.  Including the shamefaced Ga'r, who should have been on watch.  Croix glared at her young 'watchman'.  Though still a child, he had to learn to keep awake on watch if he wanted to survive to reach adulthood.
        Then she turned to catch Tieran as the small child ran into her arms.  Barely three summers old, Tieran's wings were still small and furled and running on her short stubby legs had mixed Tieran's sobs with heavy pants.
        "Shhhh.  Shhhh.  What is it?"  Croix's eyes, old even among the hard edged eyes of her gang, quickly checked the child over for injury or illness.  Adult Kalri'i felt no remorse at using the small and unprotected -- like all of Croix's charges -- for whatever purpose they deemed fit.  And those purposes could be dark as the underworld.  But no sign of ill showed on Tieran, other than her panic.
        "It... Its .... b-b-b Bynch!"  The child finally got out.  Croix's eyes widened and she quickly glanced around the ragged and ruined aerie, full of scavenged cloth, boxes and what discarded furniture the children could manage up the twisting stairs.  All of her gang was there... except Bynch.  A five year old boy, proud, defiant and too pretty for his own good.
        "What's happened?  Where is Bynch?"  Croix's fear for the boy made her overly rough on Tieran.  But Tieran was used to harsh reality and actually calmed down under Croix's cold glare and hard shake.
        "He said today was the day.  Today he would do it.  But.... but ... Vertalis was there.  And K'ran.  And Jerred.  And the others."
        Croix's heart grew cold at the litany of names.  A gang, like her own, and yet so different.  Vertalis was the spoiled and cruel son of the best Aerie in Kont -- the D'arges.  The rest of his gang were like himself, blue blooded and protected by powerful and influential parents... with much too much time on their hands.  Where Croix's crew had gathered for self-protection and mutual support,  Vertalis and his ilk let their natural tendency toward malice bind them together.
        And Bynch, beautiful, alone and so young and naive would be like candy in their evil mouths.
        "Where, Tieran?  Where did he go to fly?"
        Croix knew what Bynch had been up to.  Every child of the Kalri'i dreamed of the day when their wings grew strong enough to let them soar in the warm air of Bat'alzer.  Adults were too jaded and too self-concious to bestir themselves to fly, but the children... they lived to catch the wind under their wings.  And Bynch was old enough.  Barely.
        "The North Landing."  Tieran sputtered out.
        Croix cursed under her breath.  So far.  Of course Bynch wouldn't have wanted to fail where his friends might hear of it.  Secluded and seldom used, Bynch's efforts would have few, if any, witnessess.  But it was so far out of Croix's territory.  She would have to hurry.
        "Get the others ready," she snapped to Geddy, a solid and unpretentious 9 year old, perfect for second in command.  "And take her."  Despite Croix's cold words, she gently scooped up the still trembling Tieran in arms perhaps a little too strong for the 11 year old Kalri'i she appeared to be.  Depositing the sniffling child in Geddy's arms, Croix raced to the ruined window and leapt into the sky.
        Strong multicolored, radiant wings snapped open in the twilight air.  And began to pump strongly.  Croix did not dally on the twilight currents that flowed around the graceful towers, minarets and arabesques of Kont.  She flew with deadly speed, a speed that no other in the floating city could have matched.
        Normally, she would be reluctant to display her abilities among the suspicious and violent Kalri'i, but Croix was counting on the softening darkness and her very speed to confuse whatever evening carousers might happen to glimpse her.  Saving her breath, she cursed mentally.  North Landing, so far, so far.  And small Tieran had had to run back -- on short legs.  Oh hurry, hurry!  Sweeping around the last curve, Croix's eyes beheld what they had expected, but dreaded just the same.  The North Landing, a crystal ramp arcing gracefully out over the twilight.  At the end it, fully twenty of Vertalis' group, dressed in their finest.  Voluminous robes of iridescent colors, feathers, jewels... daggers, cudgels and swords, all finely crafted.
        And huddled in the midst of them a tattered and ruined figure.  Even at this distance, Croix could smell the blood.  A scream of rage built in her throat and tore out across the darkening sky.
        As Croix sped toward the group, heedless of their numbers, intent on her injured friend, she saw Vertalis' cruel face turn toward her.  The boy's beak parted in a laugh.
        A careless kick and the small bundle of what had once been Bynch tumbled over the edge of the landing, sliced and ruined wings trailing behind him as he fell.
        Croix's scream was clarion with hate, echoing off of the crystal buildings.  She turned her speeding flight to match Bynch's fall, but the entire twenty of Vertalis' gang launched themselves into the air to intercept her.... what they thought was another lone waif, unprotected, and easy prey.

        Stories are still told of the Massacre of North Landing, though contradicting stories and wild tales.  On that dark day Kont lost a full twenty of its best and proudest young men.  In a horrible manner.
        Those who discovered the grisly scene speak of it only in whispers -- the flayed bodies, some dissolved to the point that only their weapons gave witness to who they had once been, the terrible claw marks, the shear carnage.
        But none -- none can speak truly of what happened.  Did some demon rise from the underworld to strike at the proud families of Kont through their innocent children?  Did some creature of the wild winds stop for a moment to carelessly play with and break what toys it found?  Did the children themselves bring down their own doom through some misguided highjinx?  No one knows for sure, though rumor, like wild children, will continue to fly about the wind.
 
 

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