The Gryphon's Lair

by Kelley Armstrong

  Now Dain’s “Hey!” comes my way.

  “I’m praising her for finding food,” I say.

  “I found the food.”

  “And she found it in your hand.”

  He swings at me and I dive, laughing and getting a mouthful of water. When fingers brush my foot, I glance to see him coming after me, and I swim faster and deeper. He brushes against my side, and I twist, wondering how he got there so fast. Instead, I see a smooth, glowing flank.

  I jet to the surface, breaking it and gulping water as a head rises right in front of mine. A head of that same glowing silver-white skin. It has a long, thin mouth and bright-violet eyes that watch me before the beak-like mouth opens and it makes a sound like a child’s laughter.

  I grin and tread water as it floats, watching me and making that burbling sound.

  “Hello there,” I say.

  The encantado chortles and squeaks. I’ve met the river-dolphin beasts before. They’re one of the most playful monsters, and as I talk to this one, another nudges me. I dive, and when I come up, both the encantados surface with me, chortling and tossing their heads. Dain swims a little closer, wary, and then he flails, his eyes round as a big encantado leaps up right under him, toppling him.

  “Hello, little friends,” Yvain calls. “I didn’t even need to lure you in with minnows today, did I? Our monster hunter did that.”

  She reaches into a barrel and tosses a handful of tiny silvery fish. I catch two and pass one to Dain, who stares at it, and then at me, as if I expect him to eat it. I laugh and grab another to toss to Alianor, but Tiera snatches it mid-flight, and the encantados rear up, dancing on the river surface as they scold her.

  Alianor sees me holding up minnows for the encantados, and she grabs another. Dain throws his in the air. Tiera swoops, but the biggest encantado leaps clear out of the water and grabs it first. We continue playing like that—Yvain tossing us fish, which we throw to see who can get them first: the encantados or the gryphon. When the water grows choppy, Swetyne calls, “Better climb on board. Unless you want to be encantado chow yourselves.”

  Once I’ve hauled myself onto the raft, I see what she means. Approaching the mountains, we’re entering a section of rapids, the water growing rocky and rough.

  As for becoming encantado chow, she’s not entirely joking. Legend says that they lure humans into deep water, where they’ll drown and then devour them. This is why villagers who live near rivers avoid the water at night.

  The truth, as usual, is a mix of fact and fiction. Seeing those silvery bodies dancing in the night-dark water, welcoming human playmates, I realize it would be easy to follow them, entranced by their beauty. And if you drown while doing it, well, encantados are carnivores—they will eat what remains, and we can’t begrudge them that. They’ve also been known to lure very small children into the river. Yet even realizing what encantados can do, I’m still happy to play with them. I just use caution, same as I would with a dog.

  Encantados help people, too, as Yvain explains when we’re all on board.

  “We use the minnows to lure them in,” she says. “Then they’ll lead us through the rapids better than any of our guides.”

  Which they do. They swim at the head of the raft, silvery bodies leaping from the water, glowing visibly as they dart through the clear paths between the rocks. As we navigate behind the encantados, Yvain explains that this particular river is slow moving, with deep water and relatively few rapids, which makes it good for big rafts. The narrower, faster rivers require boats that are also narrower and faster, but can only hold a couple of people plus supplies.

  That gets Kaylein talking about the boats they use on the ocean, which are larger and sturdier, suited for the tempestuous water.

  “Speaking of tempests…” Yvain says, squinting at the sky.

  Dark clouds roll from the mountains.

  “Is that a storm?” I ask. “Or just the mountain weather?”

  “Storm,” Swetyne and Alianor say in unison.

  Yvain nods. “The heart of the mountains is storm-tossed and fog-shrouded, but we’re not going that far in. The aerie is at the edge. That’s definitely a storm.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Keep paddling for as long as we can. There’s open land ahead. Once that storm is closer, we’ll make for shore and wait until it passes. We have time, though, and I’d like to push on past the rocks.”

  I reach for a paddle, but Kaylein shakes her head. “We have this, your highness. It’s deep water here. Deep and cold and rocky, and your oar can catch easily and topple you overboard. Just keep an eye on those clouds for us.”

  They don’t need me to watch the clouds—everyone can see them—but it gives me something to do. When we hit a rough patch, Yvain has us sit. I do, with Tiera at my back and Jacko on my lap, all of us watching the silvery glow of the encantados, diving and leaping. The clouds are rolling in faster, and Swetyne curses under her breath, earning a warning look from her great-grandmother.

  “I can ask Tiera to fly,” I say. “If a lighter load will help…”

  “We’re fine,” Yvain says. “We need only to pass…”

  She trails off, and I rise onto my knees, following her gaze. I see black water ahead, and I squint up at the sky, wondering if that’s the reflection of the clouds.

  “Deep water,” Kaylein murmurs. “The deeper it is, the darker it looks.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  She shakes her head. “Deep means no obstacles. We can cross it easily, and then Swetyne says we’ll be turning onto a tributary just up ahead. That’ll be flowing away from the source, so we’ll be riding with the current.”

  I nod and stare at that dark spot. That is where Yvain had been looking when she trailed off, and she’s still staring at it, paddling in silence, her gaze fixed on that spot. It’s black as night, the surface swirling, small white-capped waves rising around it.

  I move closer to Kaylein. “But if it’s deep, why is it swirling?”

  “The storm. The wind’s rising. We’ll have choppy water everywhere soon.”

  As if on cue, a blast of wind rips past, bringing hard, cold pellets of rain.

  “To the shore!” Yvain shouts. “Steer left!”

  Swetyne pauses, her paddle raised. “But we’re almost past the rocks. The tributary is right up—”

  “To the shore! Now!”

  The lead encantado shrieks a high-pitched warning. The smallest dives…and disappears into the black water. The others disperse, silver streaks through the gloom, swimming madly in every direction, abandoning us. I stare at where I’d seen that small one vanish. A moment later, the white-capped waves turn pink with blood.

  “To the shore!” I shout. “Something’s in—”

  The very water itself rises up in a tremendous roar. A geyser of black water splashes over us, the raft rocking violently with the force of it. The rain pelts down, solid now, ice-cold balls of driving hail.

  My gaze never leaves that geyser. The water falls away, and the shape is still there, a huge black shadow against the darkening sky. The beast throws back its head, and a whinny slices through the howling wind. Black hooves slash the air as the beast rears.

  It’s as big as a unicorn, and it looks black until foam sliding down its flank shows its coat as darkest green, like the water itself. Emerald-green eyes roll and white teeth flash as its black lips curl. That sound comes again, halfway between a horse’s whinny and a scream.

  “Ceffyl-dwr,” I whisper.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I can grumble about unicorns being horrible, nasty beasts, but compared to the ceffyl-dwr, they are as gentle as old nags. These are terrible and terrifying, the only equine carnivores, with white teeth sharp as spades and hooves like razors.

  An encantado will feed on a drowned swimmer; a ceffyl-dwr will rip live o
nes apart with tooth and hoof. Legend says that they entrance riders to mount their backs and then dive into the river’s deepest pools to drown them. I always thought that just meant that anyone foolish enough to try riding one would be drowned. Now, seeing this nightmare beast, I cannot believe anyone would try climbing on its back.

  “Tiera!” I shout. “Fly!” I motion wildly at the sky. She doesn’t need another hint. She takes off, safely away from the raft while lightening the load.

  Around me, everyone shouts orders. Yvain tells the paddlers to make for shore, as fast as they can. Wilmot shouts for Alianor, Dain and me to get down. Kaylein echoes Wilmot’s orders, saying to hang on to the ropes binding the raft together.

  I grab Jacko and hit the floor, even as I cannot stop staring at the ceffyl-dwr. It rides the waves as two others appear behind it. They’re coming straight for us. Three huge ceffyl-dwrs are making for our raft, and the royal monster hunter lies huddled on the floor, hugging her jackalope.

  I push Jacko beneath me, rise to my knees and draw my sword. The hail beats down, frozen slush half-blinding me. An arrow whips past, and I glance to see Dain on one knee, Alianor beside him, her dagger at the ready.

  I want to leap to my feet and defend our raft, but it lurches and sways, and I’d tumble off the side and be no use to anyone. I grip Jacko between my knees and ready my sword. The ceffyl-dwrs bear down on us, riding the storm-tossed surf, their manes whipping behind them. They are not slowing. Not slowing at all.

  “Brace!” I shout. “Brace for imp—”

  The lead ceffyl-dwr hits the boat. It pitches wildly. Yvain stumbles, and Swetyne goes to help her up, but the old woman shouts for Swetyne to paddle, just paddle. All three ceffyl-dwrs swim alongside the raft, too far away for me to strike. When Dain’s arrows hit, they only toss their heads and snort.

  Why aren’t they attacking?

  The biggest—a stallion—grabs the raft in his teeth, and I stare, uncomprehending, as the other two do the same. All three bite into the raft, those huge, sharp teeth slicing through rope.

  I realize their plan two heartbeats before the stallion’s rope snaps. One mare chomps through her rope, the second through another, and the raft begins to split apart.

  Why fight the humans in their boat when you can bring them into the storm-tossed water with you?

  I swing my sword at the nearest ceffyl-dwr, but it’s out of reach, and the logs are spinning and rolling and slick with hail.

  Over the roar of the wind, Yvain yells for us to grab a log. I hesitate. I want to fight. When I lift my sword again, though, a hand clamps my foot, and I glance to see Alianor mouthing, “Hang on!”

  I nod and snap my sword into its sheath, my body shielding Jacko as I fall onto all fours. I wrap my hands around a log. There’s a tremendous crack, and I look up to see Kaylein, her eyes wide as she lunges for me, someone grabbing her and hauling her back. A blink, and before I know what’s happening, she’s gone.

  They’re all gone.

  The raft has split in two, taking Wilmot, Kaylein, Swetyne and Yvain, who were all on the far side paddling for shore. I see only a dark shape as their half of the raft swirls out of sight. Then I see another dark shape, this one in the water.

  “Malric!” I scream.

  He fell in when the raft broke, and he’s frantically paddling toward our half as it bounces off rocks. I reach for him. Then another dark shape appears, one underwater, a huge form twice as big as Malric.

  A ceffyl-dwr swimming straight for him.

  Something flashes overhead. White and tawny brown. Tiera’s talons stab the water and grab the ceffyl-dwr by its long dark-green mane. She swoops up, the seaweed-like hair caught in her talons. She stops short. The beast is too big to drag from the water, but she’s diverted its attack.

  Alianor and I pull Malric onto our raft. The ceffyl-dwr rises from the water, snapping. An arrow hits it square in the eye, and it falls back, shrieking. Tiera drops, too, but just a little, before untangling her talons and swooping into the air.

  Malric huddles on the raft, and I cast a quick look around. It’s Dain, Alianor and me, with Malric and Jacko. Tiera flies overhead. Somewhere from the fog comes a shout, and Dain’s head whips that way, telling me it’s Wilmot.

  I tense, afraid Wilmot’s in danger, but the tone says he’s only calling to find us. They must be safe. We are not. We have two ceffyl-dwrs circling our raft. The third—the one Dain hit in the eye—has backed off, her screams sounding in the fog.

  “The ceffyl-dwrs all stayed with our half of the raft,” Alianor says, barely audible over the storm.

  With my half of the raft.

  I cast a guilty glance Dain’s way, braced for his response, but he shakes his head and mouths, “No.”

  “It’s my—” I begin.

  “No,” he says, louder, firmer as he moves up beside me. “They could rip our raft apart, princess, and they aren’t.”

  That doesn’t mean we’re safe. They’re circling like sharks, as if trying to figure out what to do with us.

  “It’s the storm,” he says. “They wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t for the storm.”

  Without the tempest, we could fight them. We could get to shore. That also wouldn’t mean we’d be safe. As the ceffyl-dwrs circle, the gills on their dark necks flutter with each breath, but they’re breathing air right now. They won’t suffocate on land. Still, they are creatures of the water, and on land, fighting them would be like fighting unicorns. Difficult, but we could have done it, especially if we’d had the adults. Out here, though, on the storm-tossed waves, we’re barely clinging to our shattered raft.

  “We’ve headed upriver,” Alianor says. “The waves and the ceffyl-dwrs carried us past the rapids.”

  I ignore her. We’re in the middle of a river thirty feet across. Even if we’re past the rocks, we don’t have paddles, and we certainly can’t jump into ceffyl-dwr–infested water and swim for shore.

  “We’re upstream,” she says again, louder. She pokes my arm and points, and I have no idea what she’s talking about…and then I do.

  It seems as if we’ve spun again, because the river now goes off in another direction, just visible through the fog. Except it doesn’t. The river still stretches in front of us and behind us, but now it stretches to our right side as well.

  I remember what Kaylein said about the tributary. We’ve been knocked just past it. Now, without paddles, we’re floating downriver, back where we came from. In a few moments, we’ll hit the rapids again.

  We need to steer into that tributary.

  As I’m looking around wildly for something to paddle with, the massive head of the ceffyl-dwr stallion appears in our path. He rears up, riding the water, hooves slashing as he waits for us to drift closer.

  “Hold on,” I say, as I make my way to that end of the raft.

  “What—?” Dain begins.

  “Hold. On.”

  I lift my hand, warding Dain off when he steps toward me. I get my footing. We’re heading straight for the stallion as he rears and twists, his green eyes glittering with glee. His prey is coming to him, and all he needs to do is wait and then dash our broken raft to splinters with his flying hooves.

  I stand on the edge, sword raised as the raft hurtles toward him. He snorts, tossing his mane, teeth gnashing, as if already tasting me. He sees my sword, but he’s not backing down, and at the last second, he leaps straight at me.

  I swing with all my might. The blade sinks into his shoulder, and when the raft strikes the stallion, I lever as hard as I can, using the sword to send the raft spinning to the right.

  It works…too well, actually. We start to spin, and I almost lose my grip on the sword, but I wrap both hands around the hilt and yank it out so hard I stagger back. And that’s when I really don’t want to drop it, as I envision a razor-sharp blade bouncing around a tiny, crowd
ed raft.

  As the raft spins down the tributary, I manage to sheathe my sword. The storm is passing, the hail gone, only rain falling, the sky gray, the wind still whipping but no longer howling. That is good. The fact that we’re not heading for the rapids is also good. The bad part? The three ceffyl-dwrs plunging through the stormy water after us.

  I catch a glimpse of figures running along the bank. Wilmot shouts, and I think Kaylein does, too. I don’t know if they’re telling us to come to shore or trying to distract the ceffyl-dwrs. The raft is roaring downriver, caught on the wild storm-tossed current. Even if we had oars, I don’t think we could get to shore.

  As for the ceffyl-dwrs, they’re chasing us like horses driven mad by gadflies. The one Dain shot might be half-blind, but that isn’t slowing her down. While I sliced the stallion deep in the shoulder, he’s still coming, fresh fury in his green eyes.

  There is a moment, when I stand on the back of the raft watching the three ceffyl-dwrs, that I am awed by their terrible beauty, my fingers inching for my sketching pen even as I’m struck by the impossibility of capturing what I see.

  Sunlight pierces the storm clouds as the rain moves on. Rays strike the river, reflecting off the roiling dark surface and the white-capped waves. And the ceffyl-dwrs ride those waves, their front hooves coming up and down like beautiful toy horses.

  They are beautiful, too. Beautiful and terrible, sleek and muscled with coats of darkest green, long manes, and fetlocks that flow like seaweed. White teeth. Shining green eyes. As breathtaking as a pegasus or a unicorn. Maybe even more so, with their otherworldly color and fluttering gills.

  Awe-inspiring and utterly horrifying in their pursuit, each giant wave bringing them closer to the raft—while we have no way of moving faster, of escaping.

  We cannot escape, so we must fight. Dain does, as soon as the wind dies enough for him to shoot, but the ceffyl-dwrs dive and duck, and the storm gusts scatter his arrows.

  Alianor clutches her dagger. I have my sword. At my feet, Jacko bares his teeth and chatters. Tiera has been alternating between sitting on the raft and flying, and as the ceffyl-dwrs draw closer, she takes to the air. Malric stands beside me, completely silent, too busy watching the monsters to waste breath on a growl.