Chapter Three

SULAR

"And so, you understand where I am coming from, Commander?"

The lithe reptilian alien nodded, tapping his three-fingered hands together. "Indeed, Reconn Ventrishikia." Gesturing to the starchart behind him, the commander pointed to a system on the edge of their territory. "This one you might hold interest in, Reconn. The natives call it 'Glacial Prime.'" The moniker, spoken in the planet's lyrical lit, came out twisted from the compart snout. "They have no need for what we have to offer, nor do they care for outsiders. It is canon law to stay away from this system."

Sular's crest twitched. "Strange for you to say that, Commander; most evolved life forms would see such as conquests."

The star commander shrugged. "So be it for others, emissary. Galicons have more pressing matters to attend to than the forced enslavement of a far-away planet. We may outdistance them in technology, but there have always been two sciences in the Universe. Ours is of no comparison to what they share -- magic shall always prevail over foreign-created ways."

How unusual, the Vahazayi thought to himself, inwardly surprised and humbled. "I see." Sular stood cautiously, keeping his large frame low. "Well, Commander, I thank you on behalf of the Lord Larath Grawn'fay. In keeping with our policy, I bestow upon you the Phoenix Code." From the depths of his multipurpose satchel, the Eagle-Head produced a scroll, passing unto the commander.

"Thank you." The alien sketched a bow and took the proffered scroll.

"I shall be on my way, then. Am'nelii Berinshah."

Streaking through the galaxy, moving faster than light itself, with planets far and few between, one tended to think a lot. If he came across a wandering satellite, it was no small effort to disguise himself as a comet. A comet that "burned" brown, grey and white, but a comet nonetheless. It was also Vahazayi policy to announce their presence to as few sentients as possible, so that they could live without outside influence.

"We know what we are doing -- you, do not." -- a Vahazayi axiom.

As he tore through the blackness of space, for the first time in all of his life, Sular felt lonely. By choice he took this job, by choice he stood solitary -- as many Phoenixes did, and they were fine! You had to be able to take the pressure of an immortal life, spinning through countless years that had no end in sight.

Sular's mind went back to his childhood, of sparring with Calgon and Caradell, teasing their sisters Bria and Skystone. Romps through the woods, chasing after prey with their Tarazayi cousins . . . seeing how happy Calgon and Tamatha were . . .

So lost in his own thoughts was he, that he almost missed Glacial Prime. The haunting, cold blue world spun about an equally blue-tinted sun. Banking hard and trailing sparks, Sular pulled himself towards the shimmering world, letting Glacial Prime's gravity take him the rest of the way.

ZIARA

Breath labored in her lungs, rattling in her narrow chest. Ziara plunged through the woods, ears pinned back, flat against her skull. She could hear the stronger bellows of the colddrake on her trail; this one was especially fast for its kind, thrashing through whatever was in its way.

There wasn't enough room to take wing, and even if she could, Ziara was too tired to try. Her life depended on all that her waning body could give her. Where did I go wrong? she berated herself, sliding around a corner boulder, knocking her chin so hard, blood blossomed from it. Gasping, Ziara plunged her face into the snow, staunching the bleeding. She scented the colddrake not too far away; it was probably confidant in its easy prey and was taking its time in getting to her. A tired 'drake was not a hungry 'drake. Lifting her head from the snowpile, Ziara dug a quick hole in the frozen turf, packing the red snow in under the frosted soil. It wasn't worth much effort, for like Glacials, colddrakes could track scent in snow. At least it would buy her some time and not throw the 'drake into a frenzy because of spilled blood.

Throwing caution to the wind -- and to her beleaguered chest -- the midnight blue gryphoness bounded from her hideaway.

I can't take this any longer! her mind screamed. Bracing her more powerful hind limbs on the snowy bough, Ziara eyed the next great denizen. Great puffs of steam whorled from her nares. Every muscle, every fibre protested, converging on her brain with enough force to make spots dance before her eyes. Wings sagged, tail lagged; she was running out of time.

A sudden whoosh of air rustled her plumage. Her heart in her throat, Ziara glanced down into the half-open maw of a colddrake!

Whump!

The great tree rattled as the 'drake hit it low. Huge clumps of snow were thrown back by its powerful and deadly hind claws. Bark ripped away from the base, oozing conserved sap.

Whump!

Snow shook loose, raining boulder-sized lumps all around her. Ziara scree'd, dropping to the bough, wrapping all four limbs about the cold bark.

Why did I ever volunteer for the scouts? she lamented with wide eyes, mouth dry with fear as the tree groaned.

She never got to amend -- for my father. The colddrake backed up and charged. The entire base was ripped free from frozen soil, roots and all. Down went the gryphoness, in a whole nest of pine needles.

Seizing the opportunity, the colddrake crashed over the fallen tree and lumbered over the deep drifts in which Ziara lay. Hatred burned in those amber orbs as she struggled to rise, trapped by the heavy weight of a great bough; no Glacial died easily or willingly.

The colddrake advanced. Ziara heaved and threw her wreaked body into some semblance of a final stance.

Huge brown wings came out of nowhere and enveloped her completely.