Gryphon of Glass

by Zoe Chant

  “Clean living and a healthy amount of masturbation,” Ansel said, with a completely straight face.

  Gwen had just taken a bite of her pizza and nearly spit it out instead. The others howled with laughter and Daniella hid her face.

  Henrik clasped Ansel on the shoulder. “Always good to keep the pipes clean.”

  “Very wise,” Rez agreed.

  “We are not having this conversation!” Gwen protested, when she was capable of speaking again.

  “You’re embarrassing our ladies!” Trey chided. “They are prudish of such subjects.”

  “We’re not prudish,” Daniella said defensively. “We just don’t talk about these things in...mixed company.”

  “We are very mixed up,” Rez observed, clearly puzzled. “Is there something wrong with self-pleasure in this world? Is it not practiced here?”

  Robin was holding their sides with laughter, barely holding onto their comparatively giant slice of pizza. Daniella and Heather were leaning into each other, howling with mirth.

  “You don’t even have the excuse of being from a different world!” Gwen accused Ansel. “Here we were, having a perfectly normal meal—”

  “No meal with this lot is normal,” Ansel pointed out.

  “—A perfectly normal meal,” Gwen repeated. “And you had to go and bring up masturbation.”

  “Hey,” Ansel protested. “Daniella was the one who called my figure girlish.”

  “Did she not intend it as a compliment?” Rez wanted to know.

  By the time they had polished off the pizza and Ansel had taken off his shirt to hold his own in a comparison of muscles with the knights, everyone’s sides ached from laughter. Robin was lying on one of the empty pizza boxes with their wings spread wide beneath them and their hands across their stomach. If there had been a pizza box in her size, Gwen would probably have joined them.

  “Someone will have to carry me,” Robin groaned.

  “Saving your energy for the portal?” Henrik guessed. Gwen glanced at him, wondering if he sounded faintly guilty. He was supposed to be good at magic like making portals...if he had the access to the power that she was supposed to be his key to. It was her only disappointment, that no matter what they tried, they seemed to get no closer to unlocking his magic.

  “Too heavy to fly.”

  “You know, I’m going to miss you, Tinkerbell,” Gwen said frankly. “I’ve gotten used to having you underfoot with the pets.”

  Robin raised one hand with a middle finger extended.

  “To Robin,” Trey proposed, raising his beer. “Our mentor and master.”

  Henrik started to put his hand in the air with the middle finger up in imitation of Robin. Gwen caught it and shook her head at him quickly. “I’ll explain that later,” she promised.

  They all toasted Robin, and then Ansel, for buying them dinner and putting them up in his house. “Our generous host!” Rez declared. “Selfless beyond measure.”

  “Oh, I’m measuring it,” Ansel joked. “You’ll have a helluva bill at the end of this.” He pretended to consider. “We might call it even if you save the world, though.”

  Gwen helped Daniella clean up the trash and take it out to the dumpsters in back as Rez and Henrik wrestled with the napkin dispensers and Trey put the chairs up on tables and swept the floor.

  They paused behind the cafe, shivering in the winter air. Above them, stars glittered faintly above the rooftops.

  “We’ll all be together soon,” Gwen said quietly. “What do you think Tadra’s key will be like?”

  Daniella wrapped her arms around herself; their jackets were inside and the night was too cold for short sleeves. The moon was a faint, blurry bright spot behind the clouds and there were a few floating flakes of snow in the air. “I imagine I’ll like him. The rest of you turned out to be people I would have been friends with anyway.”

  Gwen shot her a glad smile. Whatever happened, she had never imagined the close companionship she’d found in Ansel’s house with Robin, the knights, and their keys. It was thrilling to be a part of something important and to have friends that she liked and trusted.

  A crash from the cafe was followed by a hasty, “I assure you I will fix it!” from Rez.

  “Do we want to know?” Daniella asked with a giggle.

  “No,” Gwen said, laughing in reply. “But we’d better supervise the fix.”

  Shivering, they dashed back inside.

  21

  Henrik lay very still, Gwen sleeping at one side, Socks a small immovable lump at his other.

  Even though it was very quiet, Henrik thought that the great house felt as if it was crackling with anticipation.

  Today, Robin would be venturing to the land of Ecuador to find the key of Tadra, and hopefully bring him back. It felt like a turning point, like a great shining hope. If they could find Tadra’s key—and Tadra herself—the whole dynamic of their pending battle would change. Even if Henrik himself could not access his magic, he and Gwen were a formidable fighting team, and with Tadra’s strength, surely they would be unstoppable.

  He had also not given up hope that the path to his magic would become clear when they needed it most, as it had for his shieldmates.

  They would be ready for this battle, regardless. He was filled with confidence and readiness.

  He was also starting to feel quite trapped, between the sleeping forms of Gwen and Socks, and knew he could not work himself free without waking them.

  At least...not in his human flesh.

  The blanket collapsed around his diminished gryphon form and Henrik was still for a moment. Gwen stirred and tucked the blanket around her tighter, then resumed her steady breathing. Henrik swam carefully from underneath the comforter, trying not to scratch the sheets with his claws.

  He was just squirming free when there was a sudden thump from above and Socks, who had apparently gone from dead asleep to predatory in the blink of one blue eye, pounced on top of him with a determined mrrt!

  Henrik rolled, trying to free himself from both comforter and cat before he tried shifting, and Socks was on him at once, boxing with soft paws.

  There followed a swift flurry of fighting, none of it very serious, as Socks tried to subdue the gryphon with claws and teeth and Henrik tried to grapple Socks into submission. Wings splayed, tails flailing, they tumbled around together until Gwen woke and rolled over.

  “It is way too early for this, you guys,” she said, and she proceeded to smother them with her pillow.

  Socks took affront to this second assault and streaked from the bed, meowing at the closed door until Henrik shifted and went to open it for her.

  When he returned to the bed, Gwen had transferred the pillow to cover her own head. “Not morning,” was all she would say, curling tightly into a ball.

  Henrik kissed what he could find of her head and left her in peace, pulling on the luxuriously soft sweatpants to wander downstairs and make himself toast.

  He found Robin in the kitchen with all the lights still off, standing on the windowsill above the sink looking out over the morning-lit yard.

  “Master Robin,” the knight said respectfully.

  Robin turned, the angles of their face rosy in the sunrise light. Dark hair spilled back over their half-spread wings. “Henrik,” they said with a formal nod.

  “Robin,” Henrik said again, hesitantly.

  Robin floated to the counter and walked to touch their forehead to Henrik’s.

  Bending so close, Henrik thought that Robin looked weary and troubled. “I am sorry, Master.”

  “Sorry?” Robin asked swiftly.

  “I am not capable of magic here. If I could, I would take some of this burden from you...”

  Robin’s small hands on Henrik’s cheeks were stronger than their size suggested. It was strange, compared to Henrik’s memories of being young, comforted by the larger-than-life Robin and wrapped in their feathered wings. “It is not your burden. Do not feel bad for these circumstances.”


  “But if I were...”

  Robin still had sufficient strength to tweak his nose as if Henrik were only a child.

  “I did not teach you to wallow in regrets and would-bes,” they said firmly. “Now, are you going to make us some grub or whine like a spoiled princess about how unfair life is?”

  Henrik had to laugh, as he went to collect the bread from the cabinet. “Let me make us some breakfast.”

  He gave Robin a corner of his toast and jam, and the others found them at the kitchen bar laughing over Robin’s droll retelling of a story called “It’s Thanksgiving, Charlie Brown.”

  “We’re not going to make this a big send-off,” Robin told them. “We got all that sappy crap out of the way last night.”

  Trey leaned over to press his forehead with Robin’s and received a pinch for his trouble.

  “Troublesome fairy,” Trey responded fondly.

  “Is it time for Tinkerbell’s farewell speech?” Gwen came up behind Henrik and wrapped her arms around him for a quick hug. She didn’t look much more awake than she had when he had left her in their bed. Henrik dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.

  “I’ll need a tablet,” Robin said. “For a photograph.”

  Daniella provided the device and called up the location program, placing it flat on the table next to Robin.

  Henrik frowned to think that at one point, he could have effortlessly scried the information that Robin relied on technology for, and Gwen slipped her hand into his and squeezed it. She felt as he did, the weight of the expectations on them, and the guilt of being incapable of unlocking his magic. He smiled down at her, bittersweet. They shared even this.

  “I’ve got the place,” Robin said, standing taller after a moment of study. They murmured a few words, as Henrik strained in vain to feel what was happening.

  Their magic became visible after just a few moments, and a small rip in space cracked and spread open just where Robin willed it, accompanied by a snap of sound. Green jungle was visible through the portal, swaying in a warm breeze that seemed to brighten the room. They paused a moment, and Henrik was dismayed by how winded the fable looked for such a small portal. How much would this effort diminish them? How much should Henrik have been able to spare them?

  “Goodbye, Robin!” he said swiftly, and the others chorused quick farewells, not wanting to delay the fable.

  “See you before Thanksgiving,” Robin promised. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

  “Take care, Tinkerbell!” Gwen called, just as they stepped through the shimmering space.

  Robin took the time to lift a middle finger at her before they pulled the portal closed behind them.

  22

  The end of the world seemed very far away indeed, and Gwen felt as though she ought to be afraid, or feel bad, or at the very least be drowning in the guilt that she couldn’t be a proper key. No matter how they tried sparring, she couldn’t feed magic to Henrik, and it ought to keep her up at night with shame and worry.

  But instead, it felt like the tiniest fly in the biggest jar of ointment in the world and Gwen was deliriously happy. Henrik loved her. Whatever happened, however she worked out as a key, Henrik adored her and she adored him right back, every bit as hard. It definitely wasn’t shame and worry that were keeping her up at night as much as it was sharing her bed with someone she didn’t want to sleep through.

  She couldn’t get enough of him, and it wasn’t just the sex. Though no one else had ever set her on fire like he could, it was even better sharing all her favorite things with him. He didn’t find her interests boring or pointless, and he picked up everything she taught him impressively quickly. Gwen was sure that she’d have been twice as helpless in his world, but within a few weeks, Henrik was gliding through everyday life as if he’d always had running water and electricity. He only set one minor fire, trying to make toast on her hair dryer, and he’d quickly doused it; Ansel had put up three extra fire extinguishers the first week that Rez moved in with Heather and made a point of showing the knights how to use them.

  They went for long walks through the neighborhood, sometimes bringing Fabio with them. She took the knight out to see a movie in the theater and spent the entire time staring at his enraptured face, feeding him popcorn and explaining the incomprehensible parts. They stopped even pretending to have separate bedrooms after the first night; Henrik had no possessions to speak of, and he fit as perfectly in her room as the rest of him fit in her heart.

  “I can’t believe my cat likes you more than me,” Gwen groused good-naturedly. They were sitting together on the couch in the media room and Socks was sitting on Henrik’s lap, purring and kneading her claws through his jeans into his thighs. He was stoically pretending it didn’t hurt, but every so often he’d wince. “You don’t have to let her do that, you know.”

  “It is an expression of her affection,” Henrik said nobly. “I accept the discomfort as the price of her trust.”

  Gwen reached over to stroke Socks’ smoke-colored ears and was rewarded with an unamused gaze and a momentary stutter to her purr. She resumed her game and Socks continued her steady rumble of grudging pleasure.

  “You are very good at this,” Henrik observed after a few moments. “This game is very different than the one we play.”

  “It’s about seeing patterns,” Gwen explained. “Once you understand the mechanics, you just keep your eyes out for the anomalies and follow the clues.”

  She pointed out what she was doing as they went along, which was an interesting exercise in recognizing a lot of what she did instinctively. “See, there’s a gap in the wall there, that’s going to mean something. Yup, there’s another hellbeast. Let’s get rid of that.” She jiggled the tiny joystick with a thumb and activated her weapons with the buttons.

  “Clever!” Henrik said, and she didn’t think that he was saying it ironically.

  “I thought about going into game design out of high school,” Gwen admitted. “I really like solving logic problems and it’s nice having a world that you can control, you know?”

  “That I do understand,” Henrik said gravely, and she spared a glance from the screen to see him looking sadly down at one hand. He shook his head. “But you did not do this...thing of school?”

  “Game design isn’t all that respectable,” Gwen said wryly. “Everyone in my family thought it was a terrible idea.”

  “You chose to honor the choices of others for your life.”

  “That’s a nice way of saying I’m a pushover. I got a perfectly honorable degree in math and later took a job as a barista because it turns out I actually hated math.”

  It came out more bitter than Gwen intended, and she viciously mowed down several hellbeasts with her bladed weed wacker. “You probably ended up being exactly what your parents wanted of you,” she added. “Mr. Perfect-hair, Defender of the Crown, Tight-pants Fae Knight.”

  “I did not have parents,” Henrik said mournfully.

  Oh, way to go, Gwen, she told herself. Bring up his dead parents, why don’t you. It was a topic that hadn’t come up before and now she thought she understood why.

  “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “Did they...ah...die when you were young?”

  “I never knew them,” Henrik said. “We were raised by Robin, and trained from a very young age for our destiny.”

  “That’s a lot of pressure,” Gwen observed.

  “We were worthy,” Henrik said, but Gwen thought he sounded a little uncertain.

  She paused the game. “Tell me about magic. How does it work? Maybe if I knew more about it, I could see or hear it like the others can.”

  Henrik shifted so that they were facing each other. Socks didn’t flee, but she did protest the jostling. “I can only tell you with any certainty how it works in my own world.” He gestured at the screen. “I don’t know if you have the same...er...operating system?”

  “That’s a perfect analogy,” Gwen said admiringly. Sometimes she was awed by h
ow quickly he picked things up.

  “Our world is a place made of light and magic,” Henrik said. “Or at least, it was. Humans lived in the shelter of this magic and there was harmony. But some of the humans coveted the magic for themselves, and they learned to manipulate it with spells and tools and to use it for themselves.”

  “Witches,” Gwen guessed. She’d heard the other knights use the term, and not terribly flatteringly.

  “Witches,” Henrik agreed. “But when they used the leylines, they drained them, and I don’t know about your world, but ours cannot live without its magic. When we use magic, we do not use it up, we only bend it to our will, like mirrors with light. Dark sorcerers burn it, like flame from a candle draws wax, and leave behind faint shades of chaos, which you have met as dours. At first it was a slow drain, barely perceptible in the great well of our world, and dours were few. But there was a man, an evil man, Cerad, who wanted to harness its full strength. He figured out how to control the dours, and how to turn human hosts to his will.”

  “Bleaks.” Gwen had fought bleaks. “They are human?”

  “Were human,” Henrik said firmly. “They are the burnt-out shells of the humans that were, nothing now but ash and ill, shaped to the command of Cerad.”

  “That’s not creepy at all,” Gwen muttered. “So when you’re in your own world, how do you use magic?”

  Henrik looked out into space, rather wistfully. “In my own world, everything around me is flowing with magic, and I have only to reach out and whisper it a command to make it do as I wish.”

  “Okay, like...portals and dowsing. I’ve seen those. What about...like I don’t know, love potions? Or truth spells?”

  “We did not have a need for such things,” Henrik said mournfully. “All was love and truth before the Crown was broken.”

  “The crown was what...your king?”

  “Our leader, yes. A benevolent force of justice and peace, the source and protection of all of our world’s magic. With the fall of the crown, Cerad gained access to all of it, and poisoned it at the source. Robin says that by the time we escaped that even the deep magic had been tainted, that we had...already failed.”