As I talk, his eyes widen. Then he shakes his head. “I definitely don’t mean any of that. I’m just being…prickly, like you said. But I can see how it might sound. So I’ll be more careful. A lot more careful.”
“So will I. If I say anything that feels like a real insult, tell me.”
He nods and leans back against a tree. “Not to change the subject…”
“Which you totally want to do.”
A small smile. “True. I was going to ask about the ceffyl-dwrs. I don’t know a lot about them.”
“Well, thankfully, they aren’t usually found near people, so hunters rarely deal with them. We do get called, though, maybe every few years, when a herd makes its way down one of the larger rivers. I remember one time Jannah and my dad were summoned to deal with…”
I trail off. “And that’s not telling you facts about ceffyl-dwrs.”
He shrugs. “Stories have facts. And they’re easier to remember. Tell me what happened.”
I smile and snuggle down onto Tiera as Jacko hops over, and we settle in for a story.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I fall asleep after telling my story. I don’t mean to, but my eyelids get heavy, and I mumble something to Dain about just closing my eyes, not to let me fall asleep…and the next thing I know, it’s dawn and Dain has magically transformed into Alianor.
I lift my head, blinking. “Alianor?” I croak.
“I came out to take over guard duty and let you nap,” she says. “But you already were. I sent Dain inside to rest.”
I rise, blinking hard. I’d been lying on Tiera, but she woke up hungry, so she’s tearing into a bird Dain caught last night. Jacko hops away from my stomach and eyes the bird.
I stretch as I yawn. When I spot Malric behind me, I say, “I’m going to the stream to wash up. Will you come with me?”
The warg watches me in silence until I start to walk away, Jacko hopping at my heels. Then he lumbers after me.
“We’ll let Dain sleep,” I call back to Alianor. “But I’ll want to get away before the sun’s much higher.”
“Agreed.”
She doesn’t offer to come with me. While we haven’t seen any monsters, we can’t leave Dain alone sleeping in the cave. We’ll take turns washing up, accompanied by Malric.
The stream is a few hundred feet away. When we reach it, I refill my waterskin, grateful that I’d had it tied to my belt instead of in my pack. My soap and change of clothing are in that long-gone pack, so I have to settle for washing with water—cold water.
I’m bent over, raking my fingers through my curls when I ask Malric if he wants to hunt. We have food for breakfast, but it might be wise to get more, and dawn’s a good time to do it. I think he knows the word hunt, and he definitely knows Malric, but when I ask, he doesn’t respond.
I flip my curls back and see him standing a few feet away, looking in the other direction.
“I’m still dressed, if that’s why you’re turned around,” I joke.
He doesn’t move. Okay, so he’s ignoring me.
“No hunting, I guess?” I say as I rake my fingers through a sleep knot.
I’m still kneeling, and when Jacko chirps anxiously, I look back to see him hopping back and forth over my feet. I quietly rise and pull my sword as I peer in the direction Malric is staring.
It’s still dawn, the forest dark with shadow. Across the stream, though, I can make out yellow eyes watching Malric from a bush. As I adjust my sword, a dark gray muzzle slides out. A head follows, and I grip my sword tighter.
It’s a warg. A gray one, about a hand’s length shorter than Malric with a slighter build. A female?
The new warg pays no attention to me. It slides from behind the bush, gaze fixed on Malric, tail swaying, no submission in its posture, but no aggression either.
Malric sniffs the air and whines, deep in his throat, and I chuckle. Yep, it’s a girl.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” I say, and I take a step back, but Malric turns on me, snapping.
“Or not…”
His head whips back to the female warg. He’s gone silent, staring at her, his eyes narrowed. Then his lip curls in a growl, and that startles me. I almost tell him to be nicer—he’s not going to make friends that way, and she’s clearly interested in getting to know him better. But before I can chide him, the hairs on my neck rise. I’m learning to recognize this sense. It’s the one that hisses “monsters” in my ear.
I swivel my gaze as I hold my body still. To my left, so faint I can barely make them out, another pair of yellow eyes reflect from deep in a cluster of bushes. As I keep scanning, I spot two more wargs, one by its eyes and the other by the tip of a tail flicking over the undergrowth.
“Trap,” I whisper.
I don’t know if Malric’s smelled the other wargs—we’re upwind of them—but he’s figured out that this female isn’t just being friendly. She’s the bait.
Malric backs up until he’s in front of me. The female keeps her gaze on him, still swishing her tail coquettishly. She’s never once looked at me. She’s doing that on purpose—pretending she doesn’t see me.
Malric lowers his head and growls. The female has the gall to look offended, her eyes widening, head lifting as if in hurt surprise. She whines, and Malric’s growl breaks into a snarl, his front feet planted, fur bristling, head lowered between his shoulders.
A warg bursts from his cover and charges, even as the female twists and snarls at him. He’s a little smaller than her. Young and brave and foolish. He charges, and Malric spins on him, and I raise my sword, watching the other wargs. Then a brown blur shoots past me, and I barely have time to shout, “Jacko!” before he’s launching himself at the young warg. He leaps clear onto the beast’s back and sinks his teeth in.
The beast gives a very un-warg-like squeal of pain and surprise and starts bucking like a unicorn ambushed by fire ants. Jacko clings there, teeth and claws sunk in, riding along as the warg bucks and squeals.
The female stares, as if she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. I’m sure she’s spotted jackalopes before, maybe even eaten them. But I’m guessing they don’t usually attack. So she has no idea what to do. Neither do the two other wargs, who step from their hiding spots, awaiting the female’s signal.
I don’t blame the wargs. Honestly, I’m not sure what to do either. Malric settles for snarling at the other three, muscles tense, ready to charge if any of them interfere. Otherwise, he seems to think Jacko is doing just fine.
I run forward, my sword raised, and I kick the young warg as he rears. He topples, Jacko still on him, and I slam my boot down on the warg’s neck. Then I drive the tip of my sword into his throat, just enough for him to yelp.
The warg is much bigger than a wolf and much stronger than me. But Jannah always said not to think about that when you’re fighting a monster. Think of it as an even match. Act like it is.
With both Jacko and my sword, I can fight this warg. So I channel that certainty into my expression as I glare down at him and press my sword into his neck. His eyes roll my way, and then he goes still, waiting and watching.
Jacko releases his hold and leaps onto the downed warg’s side, throwing his head back in his victory cry.
“Yes, yes,” I say. “But please be aware that there are three larger ones, right over there.”
I gesture. Jacko follows my gaze and stops his cry but still puffs up and chatters at the others, who stare at him uncertainly. They look at their pack mate under my boot, and the female sniffs in disgust. They don’t attack, though. They just watch. Watch Jacko, watch me and watch Malric, snarling between us.
Then the female—the pack alpha, it seems—sits. She lowers her rump to the ground, like a sword fighter lowering his weapon and saying, “Enough.”
It’s a trick. I know it is. There are three of them, plu
s the barely wounded young one under my boot. But from the way she’s eyeing my sword, this might not be her first encounter with a blade. Monsters are smart, and this one has assessed her odds and decided we aren’t worth the risk. At least, not worth attacking outright. If we stay on her territory, though…
“Malric?” I say. “Let’s retreat.”
I wave Jacko off the young warg. Then I back up slowly, sword tip still pointed at it. When the beast tries to rise, I slash, just enough to cut its front shoulder, and it falls back with a yip.
“My blade is sharper than your teeth,” I say. “Remember that.”
I start backing toward camp, sword raised, Jacko hissing at my feet. When we’re a safe distance away, Malric follows, his gaze fixed on the four wargs. I get two more steps before I nearly bash into Alianor, hidden in the bushes, dagger in hand. Beside her, Dain crouches with his bow ready. Tiera sits off to the side, watching.
“We heard Jacko,” Alianor says.
I nod. “They seem to be letting us leave, but we need to get out of here. Fast. The alpha’s only standing down until she can mount a sneak attack. Fortunately, it’s a small pack.”
“Actually, it’s not,” Dain says.
I glance over at him, his attention still on the wargs.
“I’ve seen her before,” he says. “She travels too close to Tamarel in the winter, when cows and sheep make tempting prey. She’s got a pack of about ten. I’m guessing this is just a scouting party.”
“All the more reason to leave,” I say. “If she’ll let us.”
* * *
The wargs do let us leave. It’s late summer, with plenty of food that won’t put up a fight. Now Malric is off their territory, they seem satisfied.
Yvain said the aerie was in a mountainside. Technically an aerie is a nest used by a bird of prey, built in a high tree or on a mountain. Travelers have long reported finding such nests for gryphons, filled with the rotting corpses and skeletal remains of their victims. It makes a deliciously horrifying story, but the truth is that no monster hunter has ever come across a gryphon nest. They might be half bird, but why would they perch in a tree that wouldn’t support the weight of their feline hindquarters? A nest also doesn’t make sense when they don’t lay eggs. As for those stories, Jannah would point out that no person, however adventurous, climbs to what looks like a massive predator’s nest.
That last part holds true for monster hunters, too. No matter how curious we might be, we don’t go looking for gryphon nests. Clan Hadleigh only knows of this aerie because they’ve spotted young gryphons in the area and therefore avoid the region. No one, including them, has ever seen an actual aerie. We are going to be the first.
We have a rough idea where to find it. When Yvain had mentioned landmarks, Alianor was paying close attention. It would have been a quarter-day’s walk from the river if we’d gone as far as we were supposed to. From where we crashed, we figure it’s a half-day hike, and we’d covered part of that yesterday.
Now we’re off to an early start—earlier than we’d expected, thanks to the wargs—but that’s good, because I soon realize it won’t be like following a road. We’re guessing, really. Wandering through the foothills in the right direction while looking for landmarks.
“If we don’t see any by midday, we’ll head for the river,” I say. “This is too dangerous a spot to be in when it gets dark, and we have no idea how long it’ll take to leave Tiera—to be sure she’ll be accepted.”
“How exactly do you plan to do that anyway, princess?” Dain asks.
My heart thumps double-time, and when I try to speak, my mouth is dry. “I…I’m not sure. I had been hoping Wilmot would have an idea. I should have talked to him more about the specifics…”
“I could have done that, too,” Dain says. “I never thought of it.”
My heart rate slows a little. His first question sounded like a challenge, but I realize he didn’t mean it like that.
“I did speak to Wilmot a bit,” I say. “The biggest concern is making sure the gryphons will accept her.” I glance at Tiera. “Monsters aren’t as likely as regular animals to hurt their own kind, especially young ones. If it was hard weather, they might shun her, because they don’t want to share food, but if they accept her while we’re there, they won’t turn her out later. The problem is…”
“Making sure they accept her?”
I nod. “We can’t get near the aerie, of course. That’s asking for trouble. But if we can get her near it, then hopefully…Well, we’ll figure something out. We just need to find those landmarks.”
“Or we could just follow that,” Dain says.
I squint into the sky, following his finger. There, in the distance, is a gryphon, flying toward a mountainside.
I grin. “Let’s get higher and see where it lands.”
We take off, scrambling up the hill, gaze fixed on the distant gryphon as it makes its way home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
We’ve located the gryphon aerie. It’s on the mountainside, as Yvain had thought. Not a nest, but a cavern. That was what Jannah had always theorized—that gryphons would embrace their feline side and raise their young in dens.
When the adult gryphon flies into a huge hole in the mountainside, my insides ignite with a joy I can barely contain, and all I can think is that I cannot wait to tell Jannah…
Nothing. I will tell my aunt nothing. I can’t.
How much would she have loved to be here? How much would I love to have her here? Dad, too. He might not be as interested in the scientific aspects, but after a monster hunt, his eyes used to glow, his whole body thrumming with excitement. That’s how he’d be, seeing an aerie.
What would it be like to have them both here? I shouldn’t think that. It makes my heart clench and my eyes fill. But it makes me feel something else, too. Something good.
I think back to the first time I fell off a horse. I broke a rib, and it hurt to breathe. Dad sat by my bedside all night, and when I woke in pain, he’d ask if I remembered what I’d been doing when I fell. Jumping over a log for the first time. What had it felt like, he’d asked. What happened just before that? I breathlessly told him how I got my pony up to a canter, and how incredible it felt to be riding so fast and when she jumped…It was the most amazing feeling ever. So, he asked, was I going to do it again, now that I’d fallen? Yes, I would, and when I thought of the good parts, even the pain wasn’t so bad.
That’s what it’s like, wishing Dad and Jannah were here. It hurts, but it also makes me think of all the times they were with me. When I imagine how they’d look, what they’d say, it feels good, because it reminds me that I haven’t forgotten them. I know exactly what Dad would say, seeing that gryphon fly into the aerie. I know exactly what Jannah would do. Mom always says Dad’s still with me. Jannah, too. They’re with me because I can imagine them here, and that makes me happy, even when it hurts.
Thinking of Dad, though—and especially of Jannah—means I realize something I need to do. Something they’d both insist on, if they were here.
I wait until we’re partway up the small mountain. Climbing it isn’t easy—while it’s not steep, there aren’t trails either. The mountain is thickly forested at the base, but quickly becomes rock. That’s where I stop and turn to the others. Tiera immediately curls up with her head tucked under one wing. She’s been alternating between flying and walking, and too much of either is exhausting at her age.
Jacko snuggles with her while Malric grunts and casts a meaningful look up the mountain, telling me we need to keep moving.
“Clan Bellamy recognizes the throne, right?” I say to Alianor. “They may not be the happiest of subjects, but they do consider themselves subjects, especially after the recent treaties.”
“Uh, yes…I’m guessing you aren’t stopping here for a political discussion, though. What’s up?”
I turn to Dain. “Wilmot considers himself a loyal subject, whatever his issues with the throne. Do you, too?”
He tenses, and I’m ready for him to say no, he does not, considering he still blames the queen for his servitude. Instead, he says, carefully, “I know I’ve made mistakes, princess, but if you still have reason to doubt my loyalty…”
“I don’t. I’m just confirming that, as subjects, you recognize the authority of the throne.”
“Yes…” Dain says. “And to echo Alianor, what’s up?”
“She’s going to give us an order,” Alianor says. “We admitted we’re the queen’s subjects, which means we’re the subjects of both Princess Rowan of Clan Dacre and the royal monster hunter of Tamarel. If she gives an order, we’re bound to obey it.”
“I’m not carrying you up the mountain, princess,” Dain says.
I shake my head. “As tempting as that is, no. I’m going to ask”—I take a deep breath—“insist you both stay behind.”
“What?” they say in unison.
“We’re not letting you walk into a gryphon’s lair by yourself, princess,” Dain says.
I lift my hands. “My plan is only to take Tiera close enough for the gryphons to smell her. I see a patch of forest up ahead. It’s too thick for the adult gryphons, so I’ll take Tiera in there. They’ll hear us and come out, and hopefully I can hand her over without getting any closer.”
“It’s still dangerous,” Alianor says. She pauses. “Which is why you don’t want us there, right?”
It is, but I know better than to say that outright. I need a reason they can’t argue, as my queen-in-training lessons taught me.
“The more people we take, the more likely we are to spook the gryphons. There may be young gryphons there, and the adults will be very protective. I need to take Malric—he won’t let me go without him. That’s bad enough. Add two more humans to the mix…”
The Gryphon's Lair Page 20