Thunder rolled over the City of the Valley.

Raln paused in the street and looked up between the stone towers, to the sky that billowed with darkening clouds. Blood soaked his shirt, and he held one injured arm close to his chest. His clothing was too conspicuous: the crest and blue-black of the Kingdom of Ysai -- otherwise known as the Kingdom of Lightning -- which had been invaded, conquered and destroyed only a few weeks ago.

An arrow whizzed by his shoulder. Immediately Raln dove into a narrow passageway, pursued by the King's Guard of the City of the Valley. He had come here seeking allies and soldiers. Instead he had found only betrayal. He had escaped the city castle only by luck, but it seemed unlikely now that he'd make it past the walls alive.

Raln kept an eye on the clouds as he ducked among the streets, running from the very people he had come here to recruit to his cause. He needed to get higher.

Solara heard the thunder from her perch on a church rooftop. She wore a simple emerald dress and over that she wore a dark grey cloak. Her long golden hair flowed over her shoulders as the wind began to blow. Anyone looking at her would say she was a pretty woman. What most people didn't know was that beneath her cloak on her back was a set of feathered wings. She kept them hidden unless absolutely necessary to avoid suspicion.

Her attention was drawn away from the clouds by a commotion in the streets below. She looked down to see the King's Guard pursuing someone. Upon closer inspection she realized the man they were pursuing was injured. She could see a blood stain on his shirt. She didn't believe it was justified for guards to be chasing an injured man like that.

She stood up and with a graceful leap began moving from rooftop to rooftop until she caught up to the man. She leapt down beside him catching his good arm. She placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling her cloak off at the same time. "Hang on," she said before extending her large black feathered wings. With a few powerful flaps they were in the air. She landed softly on a rooftop and pulled him away from the edge. "Are you all right?" She asked looking at his injury.

The sudden appearance of a woman so close to him gave Raln a start -- his immediate assumption was that she was one of the guards, or at least in league with the king that wanted him dead. He was about to attack her and push her to the ground when he was stopped by the flutter and rush of black wings.

Wings?

In a lurching swirl of wind, his feet left the ground. Raln made a shocked choking noise and clung to her feverishly, his wide eyes watching the ground fall out from under them.

By the time his feet were again on something solid, Raln was soaked in a cold panicked sweat. He crouched low on the rooftop, grasping it and sucking in deep breaths. He didn't usually have a problem with heights -- but being suddenly whisked into the sky was not something he'd ever expected to endure.

His eyes snapped to her face as she drew close again. With a scowl he shifted away, his arm pressed into the wound on his chest, protective. He still didn't know her motive. "Who are you?" What are you might have been the more appropriate question.

Below, the guards' shouts echoed up from the alleys. They spread out among the narrow streets, running like ants in a maze.

She draped her cloak around her shoulders, tucking her wings in so they were hidden once again. She held up her hands in a nonaggressive position, "it's all right. My name is Solara. I want to help you."

She studied his blood stained shirt and slowly moved closer. "Sorry about the flight," she added noticing his panic. "I forget not everyone is used to the sudden change in altitude."

As she spoke she knelt in front of him. "Let me see your wound," she said reaching out and gently taking his arm, slowly moving it away from the wound. It was as if she was working with a frightened animal and she was trying not to make any sudden moves to startle it.

"It's fine," he grumbled irritably, but he allowed her to take his arm and to see the deep gash left in his ribs by a passing arrow. Her careful demeanor and the quiet concern of her voice had convinced him that she wasn't here to take him to the chopping block -- or to eat him, whatever people with wings did with strangers they had abducted off the street. He decided he wouldn't cause a scene by refusing her.

He glanced over the edge of the roof, to where a guard had just checked and abandoned the alley just below -- but his alert focus was on her every movement.

"You have already helped me," he told her in a solemn voice -- and then, in a lower mutter, ". . . whatever you are."

"This will only take a moment," she replied half ignoring him. She studied the wound for a moment. She reached out and gently placed her hand over the gash. She muttered something under her breath. A blue light emitted from her palm and a warmth spread from her hand. His flesh began to knit back together beneath her touch. She slowly pulled her hand away to see the gash had been healed completely.

"You should be all right now." She said stepping back away from him. She glanced him over and he didn't seem to have any other wounds. "But if you want to avoid the guards I suggest you wait up here."

He was too distracted by the miracle she had performed on his wound to hear what she was saying. The pain was gone. Carefully, he touched his fingers to the bloodsoaked gash in his shirt, and felt the new skin beneath it. When his hand returned clean of blood, he opened the hole in his clothing a bit more, to see for himself that she had completely healed his injury. Not even a scar marked his skin.

His eyes lifted to hers, and he scrambled to his feet. "You know who I am," he said confidently, with a small smirk of pride that he'd figured her out. "You're part of the resistance. How many of you are there? A hundred? More?"

Of course, it made perfect sense! She had recognized him as the prince of Ysai, and had rescued him in order to assist him in the coming war.

Thunder rumbled again. He peered down into the streets, where the guards were moving quicker. "They'll scatter with the rain," he said in mockery of their childish fear of the storm, confident now that he was so certain that Solaria would take him to the rest of the resistance -- the beginnings of his new army.

She stayed kneeling on the ground and watched him stand with pride. His posture was exceedingly confident and his face was rather handsome. His clothes were those of one with high standing she noticed. He spoke as if she knew him and said something about a resistance. She had not the faintest idea of what he was referring to.

She tilted her head and blinked up at him. "I'm sorry I'm not part of a resistance and I don't know who you are. I was just trying to help," she said slowly confused. She did wonder who he was though. Why would he need a resistance? Was he a fugitive? Is that why he had been running? Had she just made a mistake.

"Once the guards are gone I'll set you back on the street and you can be on your way," she assured him.

His expression fell by degrees into something grave and troubled, and he looked down at her out of the corner of his eye.

In his search for an army, all he'd found was a single good samaritan. Somehow, with her words he knew there was no such thing as a resistance -- only masses of people ready to blindly walk into shackles and chains, and kings waiting with open arms for the riches that came with them.

His jaw clenched in anger. Rain trickled from the sky, and the guards began to thin and disperse as they took shelter.

"You shouldn't show strangers what you are and what you can do," he said darkly, after a few moments. "Your king has decided to sell his people into slavery, and you'll be first to be hunted down. If there really is no resistance, it's already too late for this city. Get as far from here as you can."

Her brow furrowed troubled and confused. She slowly stood and walked over to him. "Well you're probably right about that," she muttered more to herself when he told her she shouldn't be so open about what she is. She took her cloak off revealing her wings. She wrapped an arm around him and lifted him up off the roof. She set him on the street below.

She stepped away from him and paused before saying, "What are you talking about? What is going on?" She put her cloak on, tucking her wings in. She didn't want to leave the city. There were enough people here that no one noticed her and she appreciated it.

Floating through the air was still disconcerting -- especially when the person holding him up seemed much too fragile to possess such strength -- but Raln held on stiffly, focusing on the majestic flap of her wings rather than on the ground below. Still, he was very much relieved when his feet were again on the damp street. He stepped back, and his voice was grave.

"You might have heard that the neighboring kingdom has been destroyed in war with the Mechanist Empire. Its people have been shackled and made to build weapons for a new war. My name is Raln -- I'm the survivor of the Ysai royal bloodline, maybe the only one that made it out alive. I came here for refuge, and to ask the help of the king of this city to fight against the Mechanists -- but I've just learned that he's already pledged his loyalty to the Empire. He's sold everyone in this city to the Mechanists in exchange for wealth and power."

Thunder rolled, and the rain fell. He glared at the sky, then at her. "I'll rally the city as much as I can before the war machines get here, but it won't do much good. I've seen them. If you can't fight, it's better to run."

She did remember hearing that the neighboring kingdom had fallen but details were only rumors spread by the people. She was surprised to find that he was of a royal bloodline and shocked to find out what the King of this city had done. She shook her head in disbelief but what he said made sense.

"I'll help you," she said suddenly. "I can help you find supporters for your cause." She wasn't much of a fighter but if it came to that she would fight too.

The rain hissed all around them. Tendrils of water trickled down his face as he peered at her severely, daring her to look away from his black eyes. She was an honest one -- beautiful, innocent, unaccustomed to war. She didn't realize what she was saying. It was one thing to want to help others. It was quite another to offer one's life for the sake of feeble hope. His jaw set, almost angry with her for risking her life as much as she had just by speaking to him.

"You'll get yourself killed by your own king," he growled. "Siding with me is treason."

Whr-r-r-r-r-r

A soft, distant rushing noise pulsed in the distance, masked by the rumble of thunder and rain.

Raln looked up between the buildings, toward the mountains that separated the City of the Valley from the broken kingdom he had fled.

The soft silhouette of an airship drifted between the mountains, partially hidden by fog. It was headed directly for the city.

"It's too late." He stiffened with anger, every breath a hiss of defiance. "They're here."

The walls around the city were being shut down. The doors locked, the bridges raised, the bars crossed. No one would leave.

She was surprised to see the anger in his eyes but she held his gaze. Then she heard the sound. She looked up to see the airship and heard the walls of the city closing around them. The few people by the city gates began to panic, confused.

She looked back at Raln. "Well what's your plan? Are you going to run or going to fight?" She asked simply.

Her personal instinct was to fly. She could easily fly over the city walls and flee into the forest. She could travel to another town and start over with no one ever realizing.

She would help him escape too if that's what he wanted. She had already saved him once. In her eyes saving his life from the guards just to let him die now would be a waste. However the fire she saw in his eyes, that terrified her, made her believe that he would rather die fighting than run. If that was the case she could help him get up to the airship.

He had barely heard her; he was glaring up at the ship that emerged from the billowing mist and rain. His thoughts were filled with the screams of his own people -- memories of destruction unimaginable. But even now, as selfish as he was, it wasn't revenge for the dead that he wanted; it was the satisfaction of making the Mechanists hurt for what they had done to everything he had taken for granted.

A flash of yellow light flickered in the sky, then a booming explosion lit up the edge of the city. The screams began as the Mechanists displayed their brute power, to ensure the citizens all understood that the only choice was to bow down or to die.

Raln had no weapon, but he bolted down the street at a full run, splashing through the street toward the rumbling threat. He looked back at Solara, pausing only long enough to shout, "Fly!" He meant she should leave him, get out of the city before she could be spotted.

She had already thrown her cloak off and taken flight before he had said anything. She flew above him as he ran. She flew above the fray and reached down snatching a metal mace out of the arms of one of the Mechanists. She flew back to Raln and dropped it into his hands, "Here use this."

She flew off knocking different Mechanists into each other as she went. She would snatch weapons from them and then throw them into other Mechanists. They had started to throw projectiles her way which she dodged with agility.

Raln had just missed being beheaded by a Mechanist's axe when the mace dropped into his hands from above. He saw a flash of dark wings in the rain before his opponent swung again. Raln smashed his head in, and continued forward into the growing battle.

Occasionally he saw her dipping and flinging weapons; her huge wings confused the enemy, and some of them shouted "Demon!"

With accustomed skill, Raln mowed his way through the masked and metallic soldiers. More of the citizens of the city had joined in the fray, and fought with everything from kitchen knives to pitchforks. The Mechanists wouldn't have it so easy.

He noticed a group of enemies in the distance shooting projectiles at Solara; she couldn't dodge them forever. Raln smacked his latest opponent to the ground, then stood still and breathed out slowly, calling silently to the thundering sky. He suddenly dropped to his knees. In an instant, a bolt of lightning cracked down upon him -- a blinding light and searing heat -- and tendrils of electricity sparked across the ground and fried a dozen of the Mechanists, including those who had been shooting at Solara. All this happened in an instant. As the sizzling enemies fell, Raln got to his feet.

He picked up a longsword from one of the smoking Mechanists and held the hilt up for Solara to take. He pointed at the airship. "Tear a hole in that balloon," he called over the clash of battle. "Bring it down!"

A projectile clipped her arm but in the next instant there was an enormous bolt of electricity. She whirled around quickly flapping her wings to move back away from the strike. She watched the bolt and saw that it originated with Raln. "Wow..." She breathed, awestruck by his power.

He stood and held a sword up shouting an order at her. She soared over and grabbed the sword hilt before looking up to the airship. "Got it!" She yelled as she soared past him. She clutched the sword hilt with both hands as she flapped her wings flying higher into the sky.

As she got closer to the airship the mechanists on board began shooting arrows at her. She dodged and came within reach of the balloon. She swung the sword upward piercing the balloon. She then continued flying up enlarging the hole as she went. The balloon collapsed and began to drift toward the ground. She disengaged to fly back towards Raln.

When she was twenty feet from the ground one of the mechanists from the falling ship struck her in the left wing with an arrow. She winced in pain and her wing strokes became awkward and labored on that side. Her descent increased in speed but she was able to slow herself so she wouldn't be seriously injured.

Raln looked up just in time to see her black wings flutter as she fell to the ground.

The crippled ship rumbled and screeched; something exploded inside it, and the ship crashed into a building on its descent, sending rubble flying.

But just behind it, out of the gloom, a second ship advanced. More Mechanists swarmed into the streets, and the King's own guards assisted them in capturing the townsfolk to be shackled as the rain beat down upon them. Blood ran with rainwater through the street, and the fighting townspeople were giving up.

They were far outnumbered, outclassed, and outgunned. Raln could not use his power without risking the lives of the people he would be trying to save.

He was forced to run, or be captured himself. The townsfolk were in no danger of being killed unless they put up a fight; he could come back for them, when he had reinforcements and somewhere safe to take them.

He ran for Solara, used the mace to fight off a few Mechanists that had surrounded her, and he took her arm. "Hurry, we're getting out. Can you run?" He couldn't let her fall into the Mechanists' hands. They were known for their experiments on living specimens -- and she had a power they could never be allowed to discover.