Free Winged Raiders of the Desert by Gilbert L. Morris Page B

for now.”
    â€œI don't think I'll ever learn how to judge the wind,” Josh said ruefully. That was one of their hardest subjects, learning wind currents. They learned that there was an updraft under certain conditions and also downdrafts. So they had to study at least theoretically how to catch the updrafts.
    â€œThis is probably the only spot in the world where this kind of thing would work,” Jake said to Josh one day as they were going over their lessons. “I don't know many places in Oldworld where the wind blew all the time.”
    â€œThat's probably right,” Josh admitted. He looked out over the wide sweep of terrain, noting how the land fell far away and the desert floor was so far away that the sheep below looked like tiny white dots. Carefully hewalked to the edge, stared down, then turned back. “I don't think I'll ever be able to jump off this thing.”
    â€œWell, we've just got to, Josh! It may be our only way of getting out of this place. We can't climb down. The only way anybody ever leaves here is to fly.”
    â€œI supposed that's right.” Josh shook his head. “But we haven't done a thing toward our mission. I guess I was wrong to lead us here, and you were right after all.”
    It was what Jake had been wanting to hear, but now that it came he did not seem particularly pleased. “Well, I don't know about that,” he mumbled. “We'll just have to see.”
    Josh gave him a sharp look. “What are you thinking, Jake?”
    â€œWell, there's something going on between the Raiders here and the Shadow Wings. That's the other tribe we've heard about far off to the north. From what I hear, they come straight from the Dark Lord himself. I've been trying to talk to Swiftwind about it, and he feels kinda the same way.”
    Josh grew excited. “Maybe that's why we came,” he exclaimed, “—to do something to save these people from falling into the power of the Dark Lord!”
    â€œYeah, well, we can't save 'em while we're slaves.” Jake shrugged. “So let's learn the best we can.”
    It was a week later that the seven were all gathered together on the slope, listening to Lareen explain more about flying. A sudden twinkle came into her eye, and she said, “Well, I think it's time to see what you've learned. Who'll be first?”
    A silence fell over the group, and she laughed. “That's the quietest I've heard any of you. Come on, let's have a volunteer.”
    Dave spoke up, “Wash, you're the smallest and the youngest, and I think you ought to try first.”
    â€œWhat kind of thinking is that? You're the oldest and the biggest, so you ought to try.”
    An argument ensued, and finally Reb urged, “Go on, Wash, you can do it.”
    The others joined in, and finally Wash agreed reluctantly. He put on his wings and then said, as he stood there, “I feel like a buzzard.”
    â€œYou'll do fine,” Lareen said. “Now, we've gone over it a dozen times. Just throw yourself forward and spread your wings.”
    The others watched eagerly.
    Wash took a deep breath and then began to run. He leaped into the air but evidently had not mastered the art of spreading the wings. One of them popped out, the wind caught it, and he began to spin in the air like a corkscrew. He hit the ground, and the dust puffed up. The others ran to him, and Reb pulled him to his feet. “Are you all right, Wash?”
    â€œOh, yeah, I'm all right,” Wash said disgustedly, “but I don't think I'll ever learn how to fly.”
    â€œWe all had falls. That's just like learning anything,” Lareen said.
    â€œSure,” Jake said, “it's like riding a bicycle.”
    â€œWhat's a bicycle?” Lareen asked.
    When he told her, she said, “Wings are much better. Come on, Jake. I want you to try it next.”
    Jake stared at her, then nodded. “All right, I'll give 'era try.”
    He put