A Pride of Gryphons

by Kristen S. Walker

  The surgeon waved her to the head of the table without looking up. “You can hold his hand, but stay out of my way.”

  She went around to take the rider’s hand and looked down at him. “Philagros,” she said again, touching the blood-streaked face. “Can you hear me?”

  His eyes fluttered open, and after a moment, they focused on her. “Your Grace,” he murmured, cracking a smile. “How are you here?”

  “The surgeon is taking care of you,” Korinna reassured him. “What happened out there?”

  His smile faded. “We were holding them off at the docks with the help of the guards.” He took a ragged breath. “But when the sun set, suddenly more came over the wall from the north. I think I killed one, but another came at me from behind.” He looked around wildly. “Northstar—my marewing tried to protect me. Is she going to make it?”

  Korinna looked up to see if any marewings had been brought in for care, but there was no sign of Northstar. Maybe they didn’t have room for an animal patient. “She’s with another surgeon,” she lied, squeezing Philagros’s hand. “You both fought well. Just hang in there, and you’ll see her again soon, I promise.”

  “We have to get back out there,” he said in a strained voice. “Too many gryphons. They won’t fight them off without us. Tatiana is still out there—” He struggled to rise.

  “Hold him still,” the surgeon ordered.

  Korinna put her other hand down on his shoulder to keep him from moving. “Shh, just let them take care of you for now. You can’t fight until you’re patched up.”

  His wide eyes met hers fearfully. “How bad is it?”

  She glanced down for the first time and had to mask her horror at the amount of blood. The surgeon had cut away Philagros’s uniform, exposing a gaping hole. It looked like a gryphon had torn into his belly with its sharp beak. She knew abdominal wounds like that were dangerous, even after being sewn up, since they often got infected during recovery.

  The surgeon’s assistant gave her a sharp look, warning her not to say anything.

  Korinna did her best to put on an easy smile when she looked back at the wounded man’s face. “It’s small,” she said evenly. “Nothing to worry about. I know a good mage who can conjure away the scar, too, when all of this is over—unless you want something to impress Tatiana.”

  Philagros smiled again, weaker this time. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he murmured. “Would you hold my hand?”

  She blinked in surprise and squeezed his hand tighter. As she watched to see a sign that he could feel it, his eyes fluttered closed again.

  She grabbed his hand with both of hers. “I’m holding your hand,” she said. No response. She tried again, louder. “I’m holding your hand. Philagros! Stay with me!”

  The surgeon put down his instruments and straightened up. “He’s gone.”

  Korinna looked up at him in shock. “No, he was just talking! You have to keep trying to save him!”

  The surgeon shook his head and turned away to another table.

  The assistant smiled sympathetically. “He lost too much blood,” he said sadly. “We did what we could, but there was no way to save him.”

  Korinna stared at the young man’s face, peaceful now, as if he was just sleeping. “He’s still there.” She bent down and pressed her ear to his chest, straining to hear a heartbeat. “Please, he has to live. There’s only four riders to protect the city.”

  “I’m sorry,” the assistant said. “There’s other people who need help now. You can stay here until they come for the body.” He finished cleaning up the instruments and carried them away.

  Tears filled her eyes so she couldn’t see any longer. Korinna lost all of her energy to move. She lay there, sprawled across the lifeless body, which still felt warm to the touch. It was so unbelievable, how he could be alive one moment and gone the next. How would his poor marewing feel when she found out? Riderless marewings returned to the wild, never accepting another human. A double loss for the Storm Petrels.

  At last, more helpers came to cover Philagros’s body with a sheet and carry him out of the warehouse. She watched them go, still crying, not wanting to know where they were taking the dead. Eventually priests would prepare them for cremation. The company would see to it that he received a soldier’s honors.

  Korinna turned numbly and walked out the front door into the dimming twilight. Unlike previous attacks, there was no sign that the gryphons were leaving at night—after all, the city was well-lit enough to fight in. She had to do something to stop the killing. If she couldn’t fight, then she would fly to Varranor after all and make him bring more fighters to defend the city.

  But when she closed her eyes to call Sungold, doubt struck her. Who knew what lurked in the countryside between the city and where the Storm Petrels were fighting? And even if she made it there and brought others back with her, how long would it take for them to arrive? Only Galenos and two others were fighting against who knows how many gryphons. They couldn’t last that long.

  She needed fighters and she needed them fast. If she sent Sungold alone, she would fly faster without a rider. She searched her pockets for paper to write a note, to make sure they understood the warning. Again, she closed her eyes to call the marewing to her.

  Then she remembered how she’d called Nightshade to her earlier. Could she do that with other marewings? Even if she could contact someone, would they leave their fight to come?

  It was a crazy idea—but she had to try.

  ***

  Korinna closed her eyes and cleared her mind to concentrate on the call. She thought about all of the marewings that she knew personally in the Storm Petrels.

  Navera’s Stormcloud, who’d been part of the training as much as the sergeant. Tsukaro’s Firefly, who had taken her for a ride during training once. Varranor’s Skyfire had tried to attack her, but maybe she could get through to her, too. The other marewings that she’d gone through training with, including Itychia’s Spiritwind and Douhyos’s Oakheart. And others that she’d met over the past two years, companions that she’d fought with to liberate the city once before.

  Come, help us, she thought to them. Come to Kyratia’s aid again. We’re under attack from the gryphons in the city!

  There was no response.

  Please, she thought desperately. We need your help!

  Still, there was no response.

  She pictured them all in her mind’s eye. Maybe it was too hard to contact more than one of them at once. If she could get through to Stormcloud, at least, then perhaps the sergeant would be able to pass on her message and bring the others. She concentrated on just the image of the dappled gray.

  There were no more words. She put all of her being into one single emotion: the feeling of terror at the attacks. With all of her strength, she put out her plea that someone, anyone, would hear her cry and come to her aid.

  Then faintly, as if from a great distance, she thought she felt an answering feeling of alarm. Wordlessly, a voice seemed to ring in her ears: the battle-cry of a marewing. More took up the call in answer.

  Relief spread through her. Surely, they had heard her. Their rescue would come at last.

  Then the darkness rushed up and swallowed her.

  Varranor IV

  In the middle of winter, the sunset happened quickly and the light began to fade from the sky. The gryphons pulled back, reluctant to leave the fight, but they couldn’t see well in the darkness. The marewings’ glowing red eyes seemed to work as easily at night as during the day, so they had an advantage, and the gryphons were wary of the threat.

  Varranor thought about chasing after them and striking a definitive blow against the monsters, but he felt weariness seeping into his bones and he knew that his riders were just as tired. He could see that the spelled bandage held fast on Nightshade’s wing, but she still needed rest to recover from the injury. It was enough that they’d held the line and kept the gryphons from pushing any further south.

&nbs
p; He signaled for the others to land and sent Nightshade gliding back to camp. His stomach rumbled, anticipating supper. He’d listen to reports and meet with the other officers to discuss how they might achieve victory tomorrow.

  Nightshade was almost back to their flight’s landing area when her head suddenly snapped up, her ears flattening back. Her nostrils flared. Her wings pumped to halt her landing glide, hovering in midair, and she turned to the south as if she sensed an enemy nearby.

  Varranor peered into the dusky sky, but he saw nothing. Was she too wound up from the fighting and imagining that she saw foes everywhere? He put his hand on her neck, trying to calm her down. “There’s no one there,” he said in a gentle tone. “Come on, girl, let’s get our supper. We can fight again tomorrow.”

  But she ignored his commands, continuing to stare into the darkness. Her whole body quivered, muscles tensing in anticipation. Every sense was telling her that there was still danger nearby and she had to go fight.

  He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to look. Every single marewing in the camp was still in the air, pointed south. Some of the other riders signaled that their mounts were not responding and asked for help.

  What could they be staring at? He was sure that no gryphon had been able to slip past them, and if another type of monster had started attacking somewhere else, then his scouts would have reported it. Despite the dimming light, he could see a great distance across the plain and knew it was empty. Marewings sometimes scented an enemy that was hidden from sight, but they couldn’t see farther than their human riders.

  Nightshade whinnied a challenge, and the other marewings echoed her. She beat her wings, rising higher into the sky and heading to the south.

  Varranor tugged at the reins, trying to turn her back, but she yanked her head angrily away from the lead and pushed on. Whatever she thought was out there, she seemed determined to meet it.

  Maybe there was a true threat. He wanted to go back to camp for the night, but he didn’t want to fight Nightshade the whole way. He resigned himself to the flight and let her have her head.

  He saw the other marewings falling in beside them, so he signaled for the other riders to follow. They would find out what new enemy awaited them and strike them down.

  Galenos VII

  Galenos had let himself grow soft since his retirement. His shoulders ached with the strain every time he drew his bow. His eye still judged the marks he needed to hit—an exposed belly here, an extended throat there—but his body was slower to respond, and his arrows didn’t seem to fly as fast or as far as they once had. As the last light died in the sky and he was forced to fly lower to see by the guards’ torches, he felt himself growing tired, and his errors only increased. If he tried to keep up like this, it would only be a matter of time until he made a fatal mistake.

  Yet he had no other choice but to keep fighting. More and more gryphons were swarming over the city, until he lost count of how many opponents he had. He couldn’t see the other riders on his side in the gloom. The whole city was relying on him to take out as many of the monsters as he could before he fell.

  His ears roared with the mingled cries of marewing and gryphon. He couldn’t hear the people shouting below anymore, but the three huge cannons were firing and crossbow bolts whizzed past, forcing him to fly away from the soldiers posted on walls and towers. He let Nightshade take the lead. She dodged and spun in the air, carrying him to another opening, another vicious creature.

  Talons slashed for him. Nightshade dropped, a narrow escape. He turned in the saddle and fired an arrow—too wide, it glanced off the wing. The second arrow hit a leg. The gryphon pulled back.

  Another took its place, sharp beak gaping. Galenos took the shot—a lucky hit! Blood sprayed from the gryphon’s throat. It fell from the sky in a cloud of feathers.

  Galenos panted with relief, then looked for his next opponent. He couldn’t stop to rest.

  He kept moving methodically, but his fatigue was growing. His sight was restricted to a narrow tunnel just in front of him. Under him, Nightshade did a better job of looking around for new threats, but she could only move so fast in the crowded sky.

  Then came the moment he’d dreaded. His hands fumbled with an arrow, and suddenly, the bow slipped from his grasp. He stared motionless as it fell down into the dark below.

  Another cry brought him back. He reached automatically for the sword at his belt, but the short blade was all but useless in an aerial battle. He brandished it in front of him and looked around. “Come on, then!” he shouted into the night sky. “I’ll take one of you devils with me!”

  Wingbeats answered him. But these weren’t the feathered wings of gryphons—he heard the leathery sounds of marewings. He turned and stared at a miraculous sight: the entire company of Storm Petrels gliding into the city. Was he dreaming?

  A chestnut marewing, glinting red in the torchlight, came alongside Nightshade. On her back, Varranor waved at him. “Hey there, brother! Aren’t you supposed to be retired?”

  Galenos blinked in surprise. “Where did you come from?”

  “I’ll tell you later!” Varranor called. He signaled for Galenos to land. “Go take a rest. Let the professionals handle this mess.”

  Galenos couldn’t argue with that. He let Nightshade spiral down to land. On the ground, someone brought him water. He drank it eagerly and stared up at the sky.

  A miracle had truly happened tonight. Somehow, the Storm Petrels had learned of the attack on the city, and they’d arrived just in time. Although they should have been tired from fighting all day, they clashed against the gryphons with renewed vigor, and they were already starting to push them back. Along with the city’s cannons, they might actually be able to drive the invaders out of the city.

  Galenos closed his eyes for a moment and leaned against Nightshade’s side. With the crisis past, he felt tears welling up in his eyes as emotion threatened to overwhelm him. But she nudged him gently with her nose. This isn’t over yet, her gesture reminded him. There would be time to collapse later.

  Galenos swallowed the last of the water and turned back to the guards. “I need a weapon.”

  Someone handed him a crossbow and a brace of bolts. It wouldn’t be able to shoot as far as his lost longbow, but it was easier for him to fire. He accepted it gratefully and remounted Nightshade.

  When they got back into the air, he could see even better how the tide of battle was finally turning. On Varranor’s command, the company seemed to executing a pincer maneuver, leaving only the north open for the gryphons to flee. Galenos followed behind the retreating forces. He shot a few more gryphons, but only killed one. There were already enough bodies fallen over the city that would need to be cleaned up.

  When the last gryphon had flapped limply over the outer wall, the marewing riders sent up a hearty cheer. Galenos waited a long moment to be sure that none were coming back. Then he raised his fist in the air and roared his victory.

  The Storm Petrels were already circling back to the military compound, which would be crowded with so many marewings tonight. Galenos didn’t want to deal with the rush. He signaled for Varranor to join him when he was available, and turned back to City Hall.

  He couldn’t wait to tell Korinna the good news.

  Sympaia V

  Xeros blinked until the darkness above him slowly cleared, revealing the glow of city lights and the faint stars in the night sky beyond. The world was spinning around him. He was lying on his back, with no memory of how he got there. What in Varula’s name had happened to him?

  He closed his eyes against the distracting sight of whirling lights and concentrated on piecing the events back together. He could remember coming into the city with the other priests disguised as refugees—far too easily, it seemed. Then they’d searched for a place to perform the ritual to summon gryphons. With their old temple torn down, the best place to draw on wyld magic was a public park. They’d had to check several before they found o
ne deserted enough not to draw attention.

  He opened his eyes and looked around again. Yes, now that the spinning had stopped, he was able to recognize the small grove of trees around him, dimly lit by lamplight from the street. He lifted his head and glimpsed the prone forms of the other priests laying on the grass around him. Whatever happened, it had struck down all of them.

  Someone in the city must have the gift. They were untrained, throwing around the raw power of wyld magic without any finesse, but whoever it was had been strong enough to disrupt the ritual. The backlash of power must have been too much for his priests to handle.

  That wasn’t all they’d done, he realized. In his mind, he could still hear a call echoing across the miles, a summoning even greater than the one he’d performed with the help of five other priests. The mysterious gifted one had brought the marewings into the city so they could fight off the gryphons. As he looked up again, he could see the last of the gryphons fleeing before the onslaught.

  He pushed himself up to a sitting position, suppressing a groan of pain as his whole body protested the movement. “Is anyone awake?” he called to the others. Somewhere there was food and water to help them recover, but he couldn’t remember where it was.

  Gradually, the others woke up with similar disorientation, and the bag of supplies was located and passed around. A feeling of dejection hung over them like a cloud.

  Hilaera was the one who finally broke the silence. “What went wrong?”

  Xeros lifted his gaze from the ground to fix her with a stare. “You must have sensed it. Another person with the gift used wyld magic to disrupt our ritual.”

  Hilaera frowned. “Another priest? We would have known if one of ours had stayed here in Kyratia.”