“Is it?”
“Yes! Killing people is your fucking dream? Well, it’s a shit dream. And it sure as fuck isn’t mine. My dream is you. And I’m going to have my dream, with or without your fucking cooperation. I ran a fucking army. You think I got that job because I’m such a nice fucking guy, all the time? Or do you think maybe I got it because I’m the most determined son of a bitch you will ever fucking meet?”
Trystan looked mesmerized.
“We are already on a path, you and I.” Galahad continued. “Nothing you do will change that. I won’t let you change it. Try and get rid of me and see what fucking happens. I am fifty times Badder and a hundred times darker than you will ever be.”
“I believe you.” Trystan didn’t seem worried about it, though.
He should’ve been.
“Even in our battles, I always played fair with you, Trystan. But, if you push me far enough and it matters to me deep enough, I will break rules that you would never break. I will go farther than you ever will. I will flatten civilization itself to keep what’s mine.”
Brown eyes glowed. “You think I am yours?”
“I know you’re mine.”
Trystan didn’t argue. How could he? It was the truth. “And you don’t fear that I lack adequate emotions to give you these feelings back?”
“I fear you lack adequate fucking brain cells. Jesus Christ! When have you ever not felt ‘adequate emotions’ towards something? Ever? I’m the fucking calm one in our relationship. You’re the one who’s always freaking out about something.”
“This is you being the calm one?”
“This is me telling you that you aren’t dumping me.”
“You will fight to keep me, then?”
“The fight is over. I’ve already won. I don’t need a sword, or threats, or an army to get what’s rightfully mine.” Galahad leaned closer to him. “I just fucking took you.”
Trystan’s eyes gleamed. “Yes.” He agreed quietly. “You did.”
“I’ve never lost a battle. Even the battles I wish I’d lost.” Galahad went on, too far gone to even process the agreement. “I sure as hell didn’t lose the most important one of my life. You might be the ya’lah… but I’m a fucking knight.”
“I am not the ya’lah.” Trystan was going along with everything else, but that part he wanted to dispute. “You are the ya’lah. Why must we continually debate this?”
“Because you’re continually wrong!”
“I do not wish to argue about it.” Trystan waved a dismissive hand, stealing Galahad’s former position for his own. “I wish to argue about you keeping me for yourself, instead. Although I am not actually arguing about that, either, as I greatly like this conversation.”
“I’m so glad you’re fucking entertained.”
“Yes, you should yell at me more often, because you say many interesting things when you are mad. In between the swearing and wrongly believing I am the ya’lah, anyway.”
“You are so goddamn…” Galahad let out a long hissing breath of frustration. “Fuck!” His gaze fell on the hot cross bun vendor, again. “And you…” He snapped, finding another outlet for his wrath. “Let that pixie go. Now.” He jabbed a finger at the man, more than ready to march over there and do it himself. “Or I will shove you into that goddamn wheel, head fucking first!”
Trystan seemed absolutely delighted with that threat. “My knight is only bothered, at the moment.” He sent the troll an amused look. “I would not make him angry, if I were you. The man perfected his own form of martial arts, which is currently being taught in fifty-eight lands.”
The troll was apparently smarter than his hair style suggested. He raced to unchain the pixie. The beleaguered creature paused to incline her head a Galahad and then flew off into the gray sky. Hopefully, she was escaping to a better world. The troll’s small eyes stayed fixed on Galahad, like he was afraid what might come next.
“Thank you.” Galahad bit off. “And try to be a nicer fucking person in the future.”
The troll frantically bobbed his head.
Trystan’s mouth twitched upward.
Galahad took a deep breath and turned back to him, starting over. “Look, this is all very reasonable, Trystan: I will never let you go. Understand it now, because it’ll save us a lot of trouble later on. You are not leaving me, no matter what I have to do.” That was reasonable, right? “Now, we can walk down this path together at any speed you want. But if you try to go wandering off on some new path without me…” His eyes narrowed. “I will fucking stop you.”
“Alright.” Trystan said as if they’d just settled on pizza for dinner. “I agree to this.”
He did? Galahad’s eyebrows slammed together. “You do?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Galahad blinked. “Good. Finally, you’re making some fucking sense.”
“For once, your use of ‘reason’ is persuasive. Even the bun man seems to think so.” He looked over at the troll. “Don’t you think so, bun man?”
The troll was too busy wheeling his cart away to answer that. He dashed off as quickly as he could, hot cross buns flying every which way.
Great. Now, the jerkoff was littering.
“I’m always persuasive.” Galahad told Trystan testily, ignoring the mess. “It’s just that no one ever listens.”
Trystan stared down at him, a hungry glint in his eyes. “Well, you were wrong about at least one thing: I very much like the core of you, knight. And I am considering many interesting options on how to deal with the whole man I am seeing.”
“That is certainly my favorite option, but you are also involved.”
Konrad appeared before Galahad could respond to that. Except for a pair of mirrored sunglasses, the other gryphon was dressed in the exact outfit he’d worn the night before, like he hadn’t slept. St. Ives was a town where daytime was just a late night for most of the residents.
“Excellent, you are here, Trystan. Marcus is nearly arriving. He’s following the race.”
“The race started three hours ago.” Trystan shot him a glare, annoyed by the interruption. “That sign says so.” He pointed up at the banner.
“I can’t read their scribble-ish language.” Konrad scoffed. “I just know the race will be here soon. We should get preparation-ed.” He glanced at Galahad and then did a double take. “Wow…” He looked him up and down over the tops of his aviators. “Looking like this, you will make much gold this day.”
Galahad had no idea what that meant.
Trystan seemed equally clueless. “What the hell are you talking about? More importantly: Why are you talking to my knight, at all? I told you to not talk to him.”
“I was just talking that he looks fantastic! I much like that hat.”
Galahad squinted upward at the hideous brim of his hideous hat. He’d forgotten he was even wearing it. “If you like this hat, you can have it.” He offered testily.
“Do not take off that hat.” Trystan muttered in an absent tone, still glowering at Conrad. “The knight and I are having a conversation here, so you need to go away until…”
“Oh no, we’re done the conversation.” Galahad assured him. “Marcus is on his way, after all. He’s way more important.” He stalked over to yanked open the door of the strip club. “Far be it from me to stand in the way of your glorious dream.”
“You don’t want to stay and watch me get my revenge?”
“What’s to watch? You’ll have Marcus dead within two minutes.” Galahad had never been less worried about anything. The outcome of the fight wasn’t even a question. “Besides, I’m not your ally in this, right? So, I’d just be in the way.”
“You have not made him your ally?” Konrad scoffed. “If asked, I will make him my ally. The man would not be in my way. I can think of many places where he will nicely fit.”
“You shut up.” Trystan warned. “And knight, you come back here.”
Galahad kept walking.
“You can strug
gle, but there’s no more escaping back to your realm.” Trystan called after him. “All the pieces of you are in my grasp. I can see into the very heart of you, now.”
“The very heart of me is you, dipshit. Everyone sees that.” Galahad slammed the door behind him.
A sign taped to the glass read “Closed for Private Brunch,” so Mordy was obviously expecting him. There was no one in the Seven Husbands small foyer to greet him, though, so Galahad headed down a darkened corridor towards the main bar area.
He always did his best to not get angry. It was dangerous for someone with so much Badness in him to risk losing control. He knew that. But, now that Galahad was calming down and taking stock, everything seemed to be kind of… okay. Galahad hadn’t felt the darkness swirling inside of him. Trystan had never been endangered. No one else was hurt. Even the pixie was free.
It was all okay.
If anything, talking about all his feelings had been cleansing for Galahad. Instead of repressing everything until he couldn’t contain it, he’d dealt with it in a (loud, but) rational conversation. Minus some cursing, it felt safe and clean and not entirely terrible to say everything he thought. And Trystan had seemed bizarrely thrilled and kind of turned on by the whole thing, so that was an unexpected plus.
Galahad absently took off the stupid hat, running a hand through his hair.
Maybe he should try to look on the positive side of his inadvertent detour into screaming rage. He’d learned something about himself and that was always important. Galahad embraced self-growth. Maybe Trystan was right. Maybe Galahad needed to channel the Badness within him, instead of pressing it down. Like a pressure valve, maybe it was healthy to release some of his darker emotions. Maybe from now on, he should worry less about losing control and more about being true to his feelings, as they arose. It would be better to…
Galahad’s introspective thoughts stopped short as he rounded a corner and the interior of the club came into full view. For one second, he was so astonished that his mind magnet-wiped of everything else. His eyes widened, horrified for a variety of reasons, by what he saw.
“Holy shit! Llamrai, is that you?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Battle of Pen Rhionydd
Start of the Second Looking Glass Campaign
Trystan disobeyed the other gryphons.
After escaping the cage, he didn’t immediately fly away from the fight. Instead, he ran down the twisting paths of the zoo, his heart pounding. Electricity in the city was out and would stay out for months, but fire was lighting his way. The sounds of the battle still echoed all around him, the screaming of the combatants so close than some of them had to be within the confines of the zoo itself.
But, to Trystan, the animals seemed a much realer threat.
Bombs had decimated most of the enclosures, killing or freeing their inhabitants. All the polar bears were dead, their white bodies burnt black. The vulture-monkeys were loose and shrieking from the trees. A cyclops sat in the remnants of his cage, both hands covering his eye, as if he did not want to see anything more. Jackalopes ran every which way, panicked by the chaos. Like Trystan they weren’t sure where to go next.
The blue tiger cage was empty.
Trystan hesitated for a step, afraid that the deadly cat might be free and lurking nearby. Blue tigers were some of the most deadly predators in the world. His father had been a great hunter, so he’d told Trystan of many animals. Trystan remembered all the stories. He remembered everything his clans told him. His father had said you had to be very still, if you ever encountered a blue tiger, because the creatures would devour anything that moved before their sapphire eyes.
But Trystan’s clan needed him, so he couldn’t stay still.
Holding his breath, he snuck past the eerily silent cage. Nothing stirred. Perhaps the blue tiger had already fled. Trystan let out a relieved breath and continued his search. He needed to find the zookeeper. Had to find him. His bare feet thudded against the pavement, as he looked up and down the pathways, growing increasingly desperate. It had been four years since Trystan was free to run. The outside world seemed huge to him and he’d never been alone in it before. His whole life, adult gryphons had protected him.
Now, he would protect them.
Trystan found the zookeeper by the giraffe pen. The man was leaning over one of the slender animals, trying to stop the blood that was pouring from its wounds. It looked like shrapnel from one of the bombs had shredded much of its body. The giraffe was dying. Bleating, humming sounds of pain emanated from its long neck.
Trystan skidded to a halt next to it, panting for breath. “I need the key.” He got out in the wingless dialect.
The zookeeper looked up, tears in his eyes. “Are you out of your cage? Good. Help me save him.”
There was no saving the giraffe.
The zookeeper already seemed to know that. He broke down sobbing as the creature’s life slipped away, blood coating his hands. For all his faults, the old man cared for the animals in his charge.
Unlike many of the wingless workers who oversaw the gryphons, the zookeeper wasn’t cruel. Trystan didn’t fear or despise him. The man just saw the gryphons as… beasts. He gave them the same regard that he gave the lions and the barghest. It never occurred to him that they were his equals in thought and in humanity.
Occasionally, though, the zookeeper snuck Trystan apples through the bars of the cage. In a world where no other wingless had ever showed him any kindness, Trystan counted that as something of note. The zookeeper was the only person he could think to turn to for help. Trystan was willing to risk being punished or recaptured, if it meant saving his clan.
“I need the keys to the gryphons’ cage.” He repeated, sounding out the words clearly in the common tongue. He knew the language, but rarely used it. Who among the wingless would he want to talk to? “My clan is trapped.”
The zookeeper blinked, trying to focus. “Shit.” He wiped at his damp cheek with his shirt sleeve. He seemed too frazzled to even be surprised that Trystan was talking to him, although none of the gryphons had before. “Yes. Of course.” He fumbled with his belt for a moment, unclasping the keyring. “Here.” He tossed it to Trystan. “Set them free. Set all the animals free.”
Trystan caught the heavy keys. “We were never animals.” He said, although he knew the zookeeper wouldn’t understand that.
Still, in that moment of desperation, the old man gave Trystan a chance to save his clan. Because of that, Trystan would never add him to his list of people to kill. He would never hate the man. He would always heed Elaine’s final instructions and judge the zookeeper on his best day, instead of on his blind stupidity.
Turning, Trystan raced back towards the Primitive People’s Exhibit. He could see the dome of the enclosure peeking over the smoldering trees. It wasn’t so far away. He kept his eyes on it, rather than looking at any of the dangerous animals running loose around him. He could do this! It was going to work. He’d use the keys to open the cage and then his clan would be safe. They could all leave this horrible land and…
Boom!
The explosion was massive. The shock wave of power tossed Trystan to the ground, nearly knocking him senseless. His vision blurred, his ears ringing. For one dazed moment, he had no idea what had happened. He lifted himself into a sitting position, fingering the new cut on his forehead.
And saw the gryphons’ enclosure burning.
“NO!” He was on his feet and sprinting for the cage again before he even realized that he was moving. The entire building was burning, flames jumping high into the sky. A bomb must have fallen on the enclosure, aimed at higher value targets in the battle, but inadvertently destroying Trystan’s whole world.
“No! Elaine! Ban! No!”
He raced for the Primitive People’s Exhibit, refusing to believe that it was too late. Maybe they were still alive. Maybe he could still get them out. Maybe he…
“Who the hell is this, now?” Large hands grabbed Trystan a
s he dashed by, lifting him right off his feet.
“No!” He struggled against the stranger’s hold, his eyes still on the cage. “Stop! I have to go back. I promised them I’d be back!”
“Shut up.” The man snapped, not letting him go. “Gods, where did you even come from? Marcus!” He raised his voice to a shout. “There’s a child over here!”
Trystan twisted in the man’s grasp and bit down on his wrist. The man gave a shout of pain and surprise, loosening his hold enough that Trystan could squiggle away. He hit the ground at the man’s feet, his eyes falling on the pair of boots that he wore.
Bright yellow boots.
Trystan’s gaze slammed upward. The stranger was a gryphon. He’d been too panicked to notice the man’s features before, but now his brain was processing more details. Yes. He was a gryphon, with dark hair, a large nose, and silver-tipped wings. Even if he was a hated Yellow Boot, he was still one of Trystan’s kind. He might be able to help.
“My clan is in the cage.” He said in the gryphons’ language. “The wingless had us locked in there.”
The dark-haired man glanced towards the enclosure, his expression unreadable. “Gryphons were exhibited in a zoo?”
“What’s the holdup, Horatio?” A new Yellow Boot demanded, striding over to them. He looked so much like the first man that they must have been related and he spoke in a tone that suggested he was used to giving orders. His cheap wingless “uniform” was covered in cheap meaningless medals. “A child? What race?”
“One of ours. He says there are gryphons trapped in that building over there.” The first man, who must have been Horatio, nodded towards it. “He wants us to let them out.”
“I can do it. I have the keys.” Trystan staggered to his feet and lifted the keyring up for them to see. “Please. I have to save them.”
Horatio actually paused, like he was considering the idea.
“Save them?” The one called Marcus scoffed. “Why the hell would we do that?” He snatched the keys from Trystan’s hands. “If they die now, it’s less gryphons that we’ll have to fight later.”
Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4) Page 40