The Gryphon's Lair

by Kelley Armstrong

  “Don’t you dare, bunny,” he says. “Get your own.” He sets Jacko down with a tap on his rump, and the jackalope gives one affronted snort before dashing off and grabbing a smaller feather for himself. As he prances with it, head held high, Kaylein and I dart about, gathering the rest.

  “Six!” I say when I’m done.

  “Four,” Kaylein says, holding up her prizes. “Unless the royal princess demands her loyal subject turn over the bounty.”

  I roll my eyes, and she grins and pokes a couple into her tight curls. When we get back to camp, Dain is still there, whittling an arrow. I walk over and hand him two feathers.

  “For the fletching on those,” I say. “Now we’ll both have night arrows.”

  Dain holds them, his hand frozen there as if he’s struggling for a response. Wilmot walks over, plucks them from Dain’s hand and gives them back to me.

  “No, Rowan,” he says. “Dain chose to stay behind. If he doesn’t take the risks, he can’t collect the bounty.”

  I want to say there was no risk. Wilmot knows that—what he really means is that I shouldn’t reward Dain for his sulk. Dain mutters something and pushes to his feet.

  “Can we go now?” he says. “If the princess is going to stop for every pretty monster—”

  “No,” Wilmot says, his voice even but firm.

  Dain flushes and scuffs his boot against the dirt.

  “Tiera needed her nap,” Wilmot says, nodding to the sleeping gryphon. “She’s still a baby, and we cannot push her. We’ll break camp, and once she stirs, we can set out.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It’s a quiet afternoon walk. Tiera’s initial excitement over entering the forest faded as she realized there was no cart to ride nor any villagers to throw her dried meat. When Wilmot decides she’s had enough walking, it’s not yet dark. I expect Dain to complain. He only mumbles something about it being a good time to hunt and stalks off to do just that. I’d have loved to go along, but I certainly wasn’t invited.

  As I watch Dain go, Wilmot clears his throat. I brace for him to say something about Dain. Instead, he says, “Twilight is indeed the best time for hunting. Dain can catch tomorrow’s breakfast, and I’ll teach Tiera some tricks for catching her dinner. You, too, Rowan. You might be excellent with a sword, but you will starve if left in the forest too long.” He glances at Kaylein. “I presume you wouldn’t have that problem.”

  “It depends on whether there’s water nearby,” she says. “I can fish for my supper. Otherwise, I’m with Rowan.” Kaylein hefts her sword. “I can only take down a deer if it runs straight at me.”

  “Then it’s hunting lessons for all. Good thing we stopped early.”

  That’s how we spend our evening. I appreciate the lessons for myself, of course, but I appreciate them for Tiera even more. When I fret about her, Wilmot reminds me of how easily she killed that sheep. We both know, though, that there’s a big difference between a domestic sheep and a wild one. Food isn’t just going to walk up to Tiera in the wild.

  One reason we stopped here is that there’s a nearby stream. That also means fish, and Kaylein spends part of the evening showing Tiera how to fish—and even imparting some new tips to Wilmot.

  Being half bird, Tiera is well equipped for fishing. Kaylein only needs to catch and feed her a couple before she starts grabbing her own. Well, after some time spent splashing in the water, shrieking because, weirdly, when a gryphon splashes and beats the water with her wings, the fish swim away from her.

  Kaylein demonstrates better techniques. In the end, though, it’s Malric who deserves the credit. He sits on the bank, watching the fish pass and then scooping them up on one giant paw. Tiera tries that with her talons, and soon she’s poised like a raptor, snatching out fish with beak and claws, eating until she can barely toddle back to camp.

  Dain’s there when we return. He’s caught a few grouse, and we add that to our fish. I suggest drying the meat overnight, so it lasts past breakfast. Dain grumbles that means someone will need to keep the fire going, but Wilmot agrees it’s an excellent idea. He shows me how to set up a drying rack while Dain stalks off to his sleeping spot.

  * * *

  I wake to the nudges of a small fuzzy nose, whiskers tickling my cheek. Jacko chitters softly as my eyes open. I glance around. Kaylein lies at my left side, Malric on my right. Both are deeply asleep. So is Tiera, beyond Malric, curled into a ball and peeping in slumber.

  Jacko bops me with his antlers. I rub my eyes and stifle a yawn.

  “What’s up?” I whisper.

  He bounds over to Malric, and he clears the warg by a good handsbreadth, but Malric’s yellow eyes still open, and his jaws snap at the jackalope’s tail. Jacko ignores him and looks back, chittering softly, telling me to follow.

  I groan. I presume he needs to answer the call of nature, but he isn’t a baby and can do that perfectly fine without an escort. Even as annoyance ripples through me, though, I see the dark and unfamiliar Dunnian Woods, and I must admit that even I wouldn’t be eager to wander in there alone at night.

  Malric lumbers to his feet and starts after the jackalope, with a growl tossed over his shoulder as if to say, “I’ll take him. You stay.”

  Malric nudges Jacko, and the jackalope squeaks a protest, glancing at me. I look toward the fire, burning low. There’s a figure seated beside it with his back to me, and I only need to squint a little to see that it’s Dain. He sits with his knees up, poking at the fire. The crackle and pop of it must drown out any noise we’re making, and he doesn’t turn even as I push to my feet.

  I start toward him. That’s what I would have done before this trip. I’d go over and tell him Jacko needs a short trip into the woods so he knows where I’ve gone. Now I stare at his back while he pokes the fire and all I imagine is him grumbling about me “playing” with animals.

  I consider waking Wilmot and Kaylein, but when my mother first sent me to find Wilmot, she’d let me go into these woods accompanied only by Malric and Jacko, as I’m doing now. No reason to disturb anyone else for a call of nature.

  Still, I set out with my sword in hand. This is the Dunnian Woods. We may not have spotted many animals or monsters—they smell Malric and Tiera and steer clear—but we’ve seen plenty of scat and prints. Wargs, warakins, even a set of feline prints that may belong to a cath palug. Then there are the regular animal predators—wolves, bears and big cats.

  We walk about fifty paces into the forest, Jacko in the lead. I’m opening my mouth to tell him we’ve gone quite far enough when a soft cry stops me in my tracks. It’s the cry of a wounded creature, faint, as if it barely has the energy to make any sound at all. Jacko’s ears swivel, tracking the noise as he chitters.

  The cry is close by, so I continue forward, following Jacko through a forest that otherwise stays silent. I glance at Malric, ready for him to growl at me to head back, but he keeps going, his ears perked as he peers into the woods. A couple of times, he cocks his head to listen. Jacko does the same, his ears swiveling with each whimper, his nose working, telling me that whatever lies ahead, he doesn’t recognize it. Neither creature seems alarmed, though. Just curious.

  The cry grows louder. Jacko’s nose twitches madly. Malric lifts his muzzle to sample the air, and he grunts in frustration. And then, just as I’m slowing to consider our next move, the sound stops.

  I stop, too, a mere heartbeat before Malric snags my sleeve in his teeth. Jacko sits on my boots, and whether that’s to stop me or protect me, he’s obviously not eager to go on. Neither beast, however, urges retreat.

  They don’t recognize the scent or the cry of whatever lies ahead. Malric has spent enough time out here with Jannah to know any normal forest dweller. Could it be a monster? A rare monster?

  The thought sets my heart tripping with excitement. Last spring, I saw a jba-fofi—saw it far more closely than anyone wants to see a gi
ant spider. According to our books, jba-fofi are either completely made up or long extinct. Yet Wilmot and Dain knew they were in the forest, so it wasn’t as if I was the first person to ever see one. What if this is a monster no one has ever seen? My heart trips as my mind races through all the possibilities, mysterious beasts relegated to the realm of lore and legend.

  I shiver with anticipation and reach down to lift Jacko off my feet. He growls. That startles me so much I stumble back, and he chitters in apology. Then he peers into the forest, ears back, growling louder, as if demonstrating that it wasn’t me he’d growled at.

  I look at Malric, who only chuffs and lies down, head on his paws. Okay, so whatever’s out there no longer worries him. And Jacko doesn’t seem truly worried. He seems annoyed. Huh.

  Jacko continues to growl, his gaze fixed to my left. As I tighten my grip on my sword, two round balls of yellow appear, tripping through the forest. I glance down at Malric. His yellow eyes will reflect light, but they don’t glow. Even a cat’s only reflect existing light, and there’s little of that with the moon sliding behind cloud.

  The eyes continue my way, bobbing oddly, like Chikako when she walks. They’re set close together, suggesting a small animal or beast. My ears pick up only the soft rustle of late summer foliage underfoot.

  Jacko has settled back, cleaning his paw, studiously ignoring the approaching creature. Malric has his eyes shut. What could—?

  “Haven’t you caused enough trouble already, princess?” The voice says princess with a familiar edge that twists honorific into insult.

  “Dain?” I say.

  The yellow eyes rise…and turn into a lantern’s glow, the flame duplicated in its reflection off the glass. Dain lifts the lantern beside his head, letting me see it’s him. I sheathe my sword.

  “I thought that warg was supposed to keep you from wandering off,” he says as he glares at Malric.

  “He’s a bodyguard, not a nanny,” I say.

  “Well, then, you need a nanny.”

  “No.” I keep my tone even. “Malric’s job is to protect me and to warn me of danger. I thought Jacko needed to relieve himself and was afraid to go into the forest alone, but it seems he’s concerned about a wounded creature.”

  Dain peers into the forest. “What wounded creature?”

  “The noises stopped. Malric and Jacko can smell it, but they don’t seem to recognize the scent.”

  “Which means you should turn back. We don’t need you running off. We’re all taking a risk out here to return that gryphon you just had to have.”

  I bristle. “Yes, of course. I had to have it. As a pet, right? That’s my true calling. Royal zookeeper.”

  He doesn’t seem to hear, barreling on with, “My point is that we’re here for you, and you can’t sneak off into the forest following every strange sound.”

  “I didn’t sneak—”

  “I was awake. You could not have missed me when you left.”

  “I didn’t miss you. I chose not to speak to you.”

  He stiffens, something unreadable flitting over his face before he finds his scowl. “Yes, princess, I am very aware that I am here uninvited. I’m terribly sorry to inconvenience you with my presence, but I had no say in the matter. Believe me, I asked—begged—Wilmot to leave me behind. The council spoke, and we’re stuck with each other.”

  “On this journey, yes. At this moment, no.” I turn to walk away.

  Dain strides into my path. “Back to camp, princess.”

  “That’s where I’m going. I’m circling around you to return to camp and get Wilmot. I know what I’m doing, Dain. I am the royal monster hunter, whether you think I deserve that title or not.”

  His brows knit in a split-second of confusion before he smooths them out and says, “As your hunter, I’m responsible for you.”

  “No, you aren’t, and really, I don’t see why you’d bother. Doesn’t it make a better story if I traipse off into the forest and befriend some woodland creature? Proof that I’m only fit to cuddle beasts? That would help Branwyne’s cause.”

  This time, he doesn’t bother to undo that brow knot of annoyed confusion. “And why would I want that?”

  “Why indeed.” I step forward, my face a handsbreadth from his. “No, I didn’t choose you for this adventure, Dain. Do you know why? Because I spent twelve years of my life training to be queen, and the biggest lesson I learned was to surround myself with people I can trust. I cannot trust you.”

  He blanches. “What?”

  “I understand that you don’t think I’m a proper monster hunter yet. That’s fine. I need to earn your respect. But whether you plan to become one of my monster hunters or not, you are acting as one now, and if you have a problem with me, it stays in the troop. You can tell me that I’m only fit to be a royal zookeeper. You can decide not to follow me because of that. What you can’t do is remain in my troop while telling others what you think of me, giving my enemies ammunition against my family. If that’s the side you’re on, then get on it and stay on it. You cannot do that and expect to be my companion. You certainly can’t expect to be my friend.”

  He stares at me. Just stares. Then his eyes widen as he breathes, “Branwyne.”

  “You were there, Dain. You heard what she said.”

  “I didn’t…” He swallows and tries again, only getting as far as “I…”

  “Did you say those words? That I was a girl playing with her pets? Unfit to be anything but royal zookeeper?”

  “It…it wasn’t exactly…” His cheeks flush dark, and he swallows again before straightening. “I made a mistake, princess, but it wasn’t like that. I…I wouldn’t—I’d never…”

  As he stammers, leaves rustle overhead. The hairs on my neck rise, and I squint up into the darkness, seeing nothing but the trees, still in the quiet night.

  “Rowan?” Dain says.

  I lift a finger to my lips, my gaze still on the trees as my hand brushes the hilt of my sword.

  “I know you’re angry,” he says, his voice softer. “But I want to explain. Or try to explain…”

  Something moves in the trees. Red eyes peer down as Dain keeps talking, oblivious. I leap forward, my hand covering his mouth. He jumps back…and something drops, gray-brown fur falling onto him with an unearthly screech as needle-like fangs slash at his throat.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I swing at the beast. It’s too close quarters to draw my sword, so my fist responds, on a collision course with that saucer-sized head. Jacko gives his battle scream, cut off mid-note as he springs, his body flying through the air, teeth sinking into the beast’s haunch. As the creature falls, my fist grazes its head…and slams into Dain’s jaw.

  Dain staggers back as another gray-brown beast drops. This one lands on me, but I manage to elbow it away from my neck. Dain grabs it as flailing claws scrape my cheek. I swing to look for the first creature, only to see Malric holding it under one giant paw, Jacko beside the beast, crowing in victory.

  Dain holds the other beast out at arm’s length. It looks like a children’s toy. A stuffed bear, all fluffy brown fur frosted with gray. Its ears are perfect rounded half-circles on each side of its face. It has an oversized black nose and a fuzzy white belly. It should be adorable, which makes it even more horrifying. It’s like falling asleep cuddling a toy bear and tumbling into a nightmare where it attacks you, all beady red eyes, curved black claws and razor-sharp teeth.

  “Dropbear,” Dain and I say in unison.

  It’s not actually a bear. It’s a marsupial, like an opossum. It’s called a dropbear because it looks like a toy bear. And it drops. From trees. Onto unsuspecting prey.

  “Have you ever seen one before?” I ask.

  He shakes his head, still holding out the gnashing, flailing beast. His gaze moves to those inch-long claws, and he shudders. “Wilmot says he and Jannah
ran into some once and…”

  He closes his eyes, wincing. “And they were lured in by the sound of crying. Wilmot thought it was a wounded beast.” He opens his eyes. “I’m sorry, Rowan. You said that’s what you heard, and it never registered.”

  “Because dropbears are, thankfully, very rare, and they don’t come this far from the mountains. Jannah probably mentioned the crying in our lessons, and I forgot it, which is unforgivable. I do remember her saying…”

  I trail off as my gaze lifts to the trees.

  “Saying what?” Dain prompts.

  “That they travel in packs,” I whisper…as I stare up at a half-dozen pairs of red eyes.

  As Dain looks, his dropbear twists, taking advantage of his momentary distraction. I yell a warning, swinging at the beast, but it already has its fangs embedded in his hand.

  I grab the dropbear and pry open its jaws as it screeches. When it suddenly lets go of Dain, I stumble back. I trip over Jacko, who’s leaping to my rescue, and I fall flat on my back, the dropbear rising over me, jaws opening impossibly wide. It screams, and I’m swinging at it when Dain grabs the beast by the scruff of the neck and hurls it into the forest…just as another one drops onto his back.

  I snatch that dropbear and yank it off Dain. Another falls, and I stagger out of the way just in time. I throw the one I have and yank out my sword, but they’re dropping all around us.

  “Run!” I shout. “Just run!”

  Dain has his dagger out, slashing at the beasts as he wheels toward camp. I shout, “No!” but the screams of the monsters drown me out. I grab the back of Dain’s shirt and dig in my heels, shouting, “We can’t lead them to camp!”

  Dain only hesitates a second before changing course. He tries to take the lead, but I’m the one with the sword. I shoulder him behind me and swing my weapon, which clears a path better than his dagger ever could.