Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4)

by Cassandra Gannon

  “That is too much for any child.” Cador shook his head. “I lost one clan and it nearly broke me. Now two are taken from the boy? We send him out there with no one. We should consider alternatives.”

  Cador liked alternatives. It had been his job to find flaws in battle plans and he’d been excellent at it. Naysaying other’s ideas fit perfectly with his pessimistic nature.

  “What alternatives?” Lunette shouted back. She was of the Redcrosse Clan and they were not a people for strategizing. They preferred action. “Do you wish him to perish or to fight on?”

  “I would rather die than leave you.” Trystan interjected frantically.

  Cador glanced at him, his eyes tracing over Trystan’s face. “No.” He said quietly. “That is not an alternative. Not ever.”

  Ban nodded. “You cannot stay here, Trystan. But, you will soon have two clans guiding you from the next world. Listen for us, yes? When you need us, we will be there.”

  “I need you now.” Tears began escaping down Trystan’s cheeks. He couldn’t help it. “Elaine?” He looked over at her. “Don’t make me do this without you. Don’t make me be alone.”

  “I will be with you in memory. As your mother is. This is what she would ask me to do, were she here.” The warriors’ braids were braided again, Elaine’s fingers flying over the tight knots, securing them into strong ropes. “Who has the sticks?”

  Lunette came forward, carrying thick limbs from the tree. “They’re getting closer.”

  Just as she said it, something exploded outside, shaking the very foundation of the zoo. Above them, the “unbreakable” dome cracked.

  “P’don!” Cador bellowed, staring up at the ominous shards in disgust. “The wingless cannot even build a prison right. Fucking morons.”

  “I am happy to see this place fall to ruin.” Lunette shot back. “I just wish we didn’t have to be standing beneath it, when it happened.”

  “The glass will fall.” Ywain intoned. He rarely spoke, so when he did all listened. “Ten minutes, at most.”

  “We have to get him out.” Elaine tossed the ropes she’d made to Ywain and Olwen. “Now.”

  No one mentioned the tears in Trystan’s eyes. Gryphons didn’t cry. As he grew, Trystan would realize that they must have all suspected that he had wingless blood. They just didn’t care. “I can’t do this.” He whispered.

  “You can do anything.” Lunette stabbed a finger at him. “Let no one tell you otherwise, not even yourself. We have raised you to be a great warrior and so you are.”

  Trystan nodded, the certainty of her words breaking through his panic.

  Gryphons always raised children to believe in themselves, but Trystan really believed in himself. How could he not? His mother and father had showered their only child with endless attention. Any dream he had, they supported. His four doting grandparents all had high expectations that he would one day lead the Airbourne Clan. In their eyes, he’d been born for glory. At the zoo, the other gryphons protected him and patiently passed on what they knew. Different people came and went, but they all treated the youngest prisoner with care.

  In a very real way, he was the only child of a dozen selfless parents.

  Every day of his life, he’d been told that he was valued, and smart, and special. As a result, Trystan would always have a lot of faith in himself and his own abilities. Right then, he decided he could do something to save his clan. He could find a way. He knew it.

  He just needed to think of a plan.

  Ban ran a hand over his back. “Trystan, listen very carefully, alright? When you get outside, fly away, as fast and as far as you can go. Head west, towards the mountains. Stay off the roads. Look for leprechaun tracks to find food and water. Travel only at night. Take cover during the day and do not move until you see the lavender hues of twilight. Purple. That is your path home. Can you remember all that?”

  Trystan nodded. “Yes.”

  And he did. Far in the future, Trystan would meet Galahad’s violet eyes across the campfire and he’d remember Ban’s words. He’d remember that purple was his path home.

  “Do not talk to the wingless.” Ban continued. “Do not approach them. Find a gryphon…”

  “Not a Yellow Boot.” Lunette interjected.

  “…A gryphon who is not a Yellow Boot.” Ban agreed. “Look at their shoes before you get close. When you find someone safe, tell them who you are and where you come from. They will protect you, until you are older. The innocent belong to all who would care for them. You will be safe with our kind.”

  “Not with the Yellow Boots.” Lunette said again. “They are traitors, who deserve to die on pyres of their own bones.”

  “Not with the Yellow Boots.” Ban repeated dutifully. He and Lunette were mates, so he tended to humor her bloodthirsty ideas.

  Trystan swiped a hand over his cheek, still trying to think of a way out of this. “Maybe we can all get out through the dome.” He pointed up at the spider-webbed glass. “We can break it and fly away together.”

  Except there was a heavy iron grate above the dome and it was still locked in place.

  “We will attempt to escape, after you are gone.” Elaine promised distractedly, but she didn’t think it would work. Trystan could tell. She helped the men thread the braids around two of the bars that were right next to each other. “Okay, try it now.” She fitted the large sticks into the loops, so the men could twist the branches and tighten the ropes. “It should act like a vice.”

  “Or a garrote.” Olwen muttered. In his old life, he had done things he did not speak of, but he woke each night shouting from nightmares. “Ready more sticks, in case these break. Sometimes a garrote breaks.” He turned his piece of wood in fast circles, twisting the rope, again and again.

  Ywain did the same.

  By the tree, Fisher began reciting the gryphon death prayer. You only said it during your final battle and the words were terrifying for Trystan to hear. He’d heard his grandmother saying them, just before she killed three of the wingless and the Yellow Boots had slaughtered her. More bombs were going off, so loud that they hurt Trystan’s ears. He could smell a fire close by. Something burning its way towards them.

  It was too much. All of it. He was trying to be brave, but he wasn’t sure what to do.

  He covered his ears and hummed the song his mother had often sung to him, trying to block it all out, so he could think of a plan. Trystan hoped that the other gryphons’ efforts would fail and he could just stay where he was. That would be the best plan. Only here, in the care of his clan, seemed safe.

  “All will be well.” Ban’s chin rested on Trystan’s hair, his voice comforting. He had been a holy man, once. A fennix. One who accepted that you sometimes had to rise from the ashes of unfair events and press forward on a new path. “You will have a new clan to care for, one day. You will find a ha’yan and live a life filled with light.”

  “When you choose a mate, select a heroic one.” Lunette told Trystan, but her eyes were on Ban. “They are a rare breed, but well worth the hunt.”

  “Yes.” Ban agreed quietly, staring back at her. “Even at the end, you will stand beside them with pride and know you hold… everything.”

  Even through his desperation, Trystan took that advice to heart. He would never settle for less than Ban and Lunette’s quiet pledges of devotion. He would wait until he looked at someone and believed the man was a hero.

  The rope braids were strong and the gryphons’ resolve was stronger. Using their jury-rigged winch, they were able to pry two of the cage’s iron bars apart. The iron bent, slowly but surely, until a hole was forged. A few precious inches with nothing blocking the path.

  “Can he fit through that?” Olwen demanded, panting from exertion. His strange eyes measured the distance. They were the yellow of an eagle’s and saw just as much. “I think he’ll fit.”

  “He’ll fit or I’ll rip the goddamn bars off with my bare hands.” Elaine would do anything to shield the child she care
d for. When he met Gwen, decades later, Trystan would recall this moment and he’d see Elaine in his sister’s determination to protect Avalon. “Trystan is getting out of here. He will fly free.” She looked over at Ban. “It’s time.”

  Trystan clung tighter to the man, dreading what was about to happen.

  “You will find a new place to belong.” Ban promised again, carrying Trystan towards the small opening. “But, remember us, yes? Remember both your clans and the lessons we taught you. Take what you know and learn more. Your new clan will need you, as we have. You will have to protect them, with your strength and your knowledge.”

  Trystan didn’t doubt that, but he knew he had to protect this clan first.

  Trystan swallowed and steeled his will. Staying here wouldn’t work. He had to come up with a better plan. Something to get them all out. To stop this. The other gryphons were touching his face. Saying good-bye. He didn’t want to say good-bye. Everything was a daze to him. His first clan had been ripped from him and now he was losing another.

  He had to fix this.

  Ban handed him to Elaine, who held him against her, for a long moment. “Go, Trystan.” She murmured into his hair. “When you are older, tell my tales to a child that you care for, yes? You must carry them for me, now.”

  No. He would rewrite this tale. He would save them.

  Trystan began squeezing through the narrow opening between the bars. The others were helping him. Pushing him and yanking on the bars, maneuvering his small wings so they fit. Forcing him out of the cage through sheer willpower.

  And then he was on the ground, outside the Primitive People’s Exhibit, staring back at them.

  Trystan gaped around, shocked to be standing there. He had not been outside of the cage in so long that he’d forgotten what anything else even looked like. Seeing the world from this new, wingless perspective seemed… wrong. Looking at the others, while he stood apart was wrong. A huge part of him just wanted to sit down and wait for the zookeeper to let him back into the enclosure.

  Except, he couldn’t do that. It was all up to him to save his clan, now. He couldn’t let them down.

  “Go, Trystan.” Elaine repeated firmly, gripping the bars that still caged her. “Don’t hesitate. Run.”

  Trystan took a step backwards, away from her. “I’ll be back for you all.” He promised.

  And then he ran.

  Chapter Fifteen

  All gryphons are liars. How many times do I have to say it?

  They don’t have emotions. Without emotions, you don’t know Good from Bad, right from wrong, truth from lies.

  That’s why, when people come crying to me saying, “Oh, noes, you guys treated the gryphons worse than animals,” I answer, “Damn right we did!”

  Why?

  Because animals are better than gryphons! Animals have emotions. Gryphons are unfeeling demons.

  “Stopping the Savages” Podcast

  Sir Dragonet of Camelot- Former Troubadour of King Uther and Host of the Program

  The Town’s Hotel- Edge of the Wilds

  “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” Trystan decided, gesturing around the hideous hotel room. “And, since I met you, most everything I’ve done has been stupid.”

  Galahad disregarded his grumbling. He had the map spread out on the faded bedsheet, next to the silver shield he’d taken from the tomb. The strange writing on each of them was similar. Not quite gryphon, but also not quite not gryphon. He was guessing it was an old dialect of their people.

  There were a few words from the common language on the map, acting as translations for some of the foreign writing. Using those, he was attempting to make out what the engravings on the shield said. He didn’t have a particular reason for wanting to decipher it, except the whispers of the dead gryphons seemed to think it was a good idea.

  Luckily, Galahad liked playing with codes. For fun, he’d developed one for marine biologists, based on soundwaves. Everyone hoped it would soon lead to direct communication with dolphins. That would be nice. Galahad was interested in what they had to say.

  Also, translating the shield distracted him from lustfully staring at the man beside him. Trystan was lying on the floor, restlessly switching through channels on the static-y TV. He’d taken his shirt off and it was hard for Galahad to focus on anything else. The man was so beautiful.

  “This town is still filled with terrible people.” Trystan announced, not noticing the furtive, longing looks Galahad was sending his way. “We may have gotten rid of the Grundys, but many more remain. They will no doubt attack us during the night. When they inevitably arrive, you will not complain at me as I slay them, understand? I do not wish to hear it.”

  “We’re not going to slay the townsfolk, Trys, because they’re not going to attack. We just freed their town from Solomon. They’re very grateful.”

  The town did indeed seem pleased that the Grundys were gone. They had been celebrating all day, the elves frolicking in the streets and the bars passing out free drinks. It was heartening to have such a positive impact on a community.

  “I think we should help this town --like-- build a factory or something.” Galahad decided. “In the future, that would give them an independent livelihood and help keep them free of tyrants.”

  Trystan fixed him with a flat look.

  “Just a small factory.” Galahad promised.

  Trystan’s eyes rolled towards the ceiling and he went back to watching the TV.

  Galahad decided to take that as a “maybe.”

  “It was a very stupid day.” Trystan opined again. “The only useful accomplishment was buying you a coat.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you.” Galahad agreed. “But I don’t need a coat…”

  “You do need a coat.”

  Galahad kept talking. “…And this particular coat is filled with down. I’d really rather a vegan alternative. I only want to wear clothing that’s ethically sourced.”

  “I have feathers. They are warm. Letting you freeze to death would not be ethical, so you will wear a warm coat. The end.”

  Galahad hesitated at that firm summation. Shit. Trystan did have feathers. That kind of gave him the moral authority in the debate. “I promise you, I won’t freeze.” He tried. “Really.”

  Trystan didn’t even bother to answer that assertion. “And now we must stay here, at this god-awful establishment, where you will undoubtedly contract a horrible disease from the filth. Then Gwen will blame me for not properly caring for you.”

  The hotel was pretty horrible. It smelled like decay and rodents. The rooms all opened onto a dirt courtyard, filled with trash and scorpions. As far as Galahad could tell it didn’t even have a name. Whatever industry the town developed, it was not going to be in hospitality.

  “It does not help matters that you requested one room with one bed.” Trystan continued. “I told you not to do that, even as you did it. You do not listen.”

  “I like rooms with one bed.” Galahad said, straight-faced. “Two beds crowd the space.”

  “You think this is a joke?”

  “No. I think you’re funny, a lot of the time, though.” Galahad said honestly. He leaned against the headboard, at ease with the world. “Speaking of us sharing this room… Are you ready to say ‘yes’ to having sex, yet? Because this does seem like a great opportunity.”

  He could hear Trystan’s teeth grinding together. “Once you start down some paths, you cannot return, knight. I will not let you return. So, you should take time to think it through, before you continue asking me to say ‘yes.’ Be very sure.”

  “I have thought it through.”

  In the single second it took Galahad to look at Trystan in the pig village, he’d thought it all through carefully. …And come to the simple conclusion that he was head-over-heels in love with the man.

  Nothing was going to change that. Not even Trystan’s grumpiness. The two of them were a perfect fit, as far as Galahad was concerned. Trystan needed some
more time to realize their connection, but he was already starting to crack. He’d called Galahad a “hero” after the fight with the Grundys. Galahad wasn’t a hero, of course. Trystan was the only hero left and everyone with eyes could see it. But if Trystan was blind enough to think Galahad might be heroic, too, even for a second… Well, that was a really optimistic sign for Galahad’s seduction of the man.

  “Some things are just fate, Trys. Accept it.”

  Trystan went back to glowering at the TV. “I do not know why I even talk to you. It is impossible to used logic with someone who has none.”

  Galahad smiled at the gryphon-y pouting. If Trystan had really wanted a different room, he just would’ve gotten one. His protestations were just Trystan being Trystan. Completely at ease, Galahad absently whistled a little tune as he worked on translating the map.

  Trystan’s head snapped around to stare at him. “My mother used to sing that song.”

  Galahad’s eyebrows went up in surprise and pleasure. Trystan had never spoken to him about his mother before, so this was more progress in their relationship. “Yeah?”

  “It is a gryphon hymn.” Trystan watched him closely. “A song of our gods. Very few people would know it, now. Where did you hear it?”

  Galahad’s enthusiasm for the topic vanished. The voices of the dead gryphons had been humming the song. That’s how he heard it. “I didn’t know the song was sacred. It’s just been playing in my head.”

  Trystan kept staring at him, like he was trying to read his mind.

  Galahad cleared his throat, eager to change the subject. He hunted for something else to say. “Do you think trees sleep?” He asked randomly. “They’re alive, right? So, do they need to rest and dream, sometimes?”

  Trystan arched a brow.