The Missing Kin by Michael Pryor Page B

from the smoking mountain.
Adalon felt the stone floor tremble beneath his feet.
The Flightmother stretched her neck and gazed at
the jets of molten rock bursting from the mountain
vent. In the distance, over the sea, other mountains
answered, roaring and grumbling. The sky was thick
with smoke and Adalon's eyes stung.
    He pointed. 'The time is right now. The land is
in danger from Queen Tayesha's madness. Help it.
Help us.'
    'For the good of all saur,' Targesh said.
    'You're needed,' Simangee said.
    'It will be the innocents who suffer most,' Adalon
said, 'if Queen Tayesha goes ahead with her plan
to invade and conquer each of the other kingdoms.
Males, females, children who have no part in the
great plans of queens and generals – they will lose
their homes as armies trample through. They will
starve. They will be enslaved. They will die.'
    'Aye,' said the Flightmother. Her wings crept
around her slight body and she bowed her head.
    'Come home,' Simangee urged. 'Come home to
Krangor.'
    The Flightmother glanced sharply at Simangee.
Then she opened and closed her beak before hunching
her shoulders in thought.
    Adalon looked down at the landscape of ash and
jungle, turned ruddy by the mountain's glow. Further
away, the other five islands grumbled in the night.
Adalon glanced at his friends. Targesh brooded, his
brow furrowed, brawny forearms clasped together.
Simangee fidgeted, her tail twitching, her gaze never
still, her crest nodding to music only she could
hear.
    The Flightmother looked up, her face firm. 'It is
not our battle. We will remain here.'
    Adalon was downcast, but he understood the
Flightmother. Why should the Winged Ones join
them? Here, they had peace and safety. A struggle
against Queen Tayesha promised nothing but pain.
    But Simangee was not so resigned. 'You can't
abandon Krangor!' she burst out. 'If Queen Tayesha
is successful, it will mean the end for us all.'
    The Flightmother was silent for a moment. 'Not
for us all. The Fiery Isles do not belong to Krangor.
We left Krangor behind long ago.'
    'The Winged Ones left Krangor,' Targesh rumbled,
'but did they leave it all behind?'
    The Flightmother clacked her beak twice and
stared at Targesh, first with one eye and then with
the other. 'We are exiles,' she said slowly. 'We were
driven from our home by the A'ak, but we have found
a new home here. We have forgotten Krangor.' She
crossed her arms on her chest and looked out over
the ash-strewn land in front of them. The smoking
mountain groaned and a thin arc of molten rock
plumed from the highest vent.
    'Krangor hasn't forgotten you,' Simangee said.
'The Missing Kin, you are called. You are in our
songs and stories. Our little ones hear of you and
wonder where you are, where you've gone.'
    'Tcha!' the Flightmother said. 'Stories for little
ones? What are stories worth? We tell our little ones
stories, too, about what the A'ak did to us.'
    'You tell these stories so your people won't
forget,' Adalon said.
    'We will never forget what they did to us,' the
Flightmother snapped.
    'Just as you must never forget where you came
from,' Adalon said.
    'Krangor,' the Flightmother whispered. 'The
land.'
    'Help us,' Adalon urged. 'Help us and return to
your ancestral home.'
    'Yes,' the Flightmother said. She straightened.
'The Winged Ones will come home.'

Fourteen
    To spare the three friends the laborious undersea
journey, the Winged Ones used their nets to
fly Adalon, Simangee and Targesh to the mainland.
Without being trussed and bound, Adalon found he
was able to enjoy the moonlit flight. The light on the
waves made them look as if they were brushed with
silver. The clouds overhead scudded across the sky like
playful beasts. The horizon rolled back as they climbed
and the world expanded, growing immeasurably vast
in all directions. He began to understand the joy the
Winged Ones felt when they soared across the sky.
    They were brought to where they had left their
magical riding beasts. Kikkalak inspected the