I shake my head. “Three humans and a warg seem like an attack party. I can’t risk that. I also need you to look after…” My gaze slides to Jacko. He’s watching us, and when I look his way, he bolts over and stands on my boots.
I glance at Dain and Alianor. “He attacks everything that threatens me. He went after the wargs earlier. He attacked Tiera’s mother. He could make things worse. Also…” I look down at him.
“He’s bite-sized for a gryphon,” Alianor says. “One chomp…”
When I shudder, she says, “Sorry.”
“No, that is exactly what I’m afraid of. He’s prey to them.” I look at both of my friends. “So you’ll stay behind?”
“Alianor can watch Jacko,” Dain says. “I’ll go with—”
“No.”
His eyes flash. “We aren’t letting you—”
“I’m within screaming distance.”
Alianor says, “Meaning that if you need help, we might be able to get there in time, but if we can’t…” She shrugs. “We get to hear the horrible sound of our friend dying.” She glances at me. “Right?”
“Er…if I do die, I promise to do it quietly.”
She snorts. “Somehow, I don’t think if you’re being torn apart by gryphons, you’ll be thinking about saving us from nightmares.”
“Knowing Rowan, her last thought really would be ‘I can’t inconvenience others,’ ” Dain mutters.
“I think my death would be an inconvenience for the kingdom,” I say. “At least a minor one.”
He gives me a hard look. “Alianor can joke, because we both know she’s not really joking. You don’t get to joke. Alianor’s right—you’re asking us to stand by and listen to you die, Rowan.”
Alianor shakes her head. “I was needling her, but I don’t think dying is quite what she has in mind.” She looks at me. “Is there room for negotiation?”
When I hesitate, she leaps on it and starts negotiating how close they can be. We decide on a spot.
“That’ll work,” I say, “but I really am ordering you both to stay back. This isn’t like being told you can’t come with me, Alianor, and finding a loophole. It’s also not me saying I don’t want you along when I’m really hoping you’ll come anyway.”
She nods. “I know. You have my word.”
She looks at Dain, who crosses his arms.
“Dain…” she says.
“I’m not giving my word because I don’t have to. If I say I’ll stay, I will.” He shifts his weight. “I’m not happy about it, though. Really not happy.”
“Understood.”
* * *
We find the spot where they’ll wait. Jacko knows something is up. I need to respect him and not try sneaking away. So I talk to him, and I cuddle him, and I promise I’ll be back. He might understand, but he’s still not about to let his human go off to battle without her trusty jackalope squire.
Alianor tries to hold him, but he wriggles free and tears after us. Malric turns and lifts a paw. The warg doesn’t pin the jackalope—he just lifts that giant paw in warning. Jacko chatters and hisses, and then casts an accusing look at Tiera, as if to say, “Why’s she allowed to go?” He’ll figure it out when I return without her…and I doubt that’ll make him any happier with me.
Dain walks a part of the way with me. When I insist that’s far enough, he tries to give me his bow.
I shake my head. “You’ll need that.”
“I have my dagger.”
“If I’m in trouble, I’d rather you had your bow.”
He hesitates and then nods and gives me his dagger instead. I accept that, and with Malric leading and Tiera tagging along behind, I continue up the mountain.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I’m aiming for that forest grove near the cave entrance. It’s on a plateau, lush and green and striking amidst the craggy rock of the mountain. It definitely looks too thick for a gryphon, which makes it a good place to hide.
As I approach, I realize I’m not the only one who thinks that. The patch is larger than I expect, and as I near it, a hare zooms from behind a rock and races into its forest sanctuary.
The hare must startle a bush of birds, because about a dozen mountain ptarmigans erupt from the forest. Tiera flies after a straggler. As I’m watching her go, the hare races back out, as if startled by the birds that it startled. I chuckle at that. Malric watches the hare zip past and seems to consider giving chase, but then lumbers ahead of me into the forest.
When we step into the cool darkness, Malric lifts his nose and snuffles the air. I try to pass, but he growls, and I sigh and lean against a tree. I give him a few moments to sniff and then I push past. He only grumbles and follows.
I head for Tiera, who’s up ahead, having caught one of the ptarmigans. She’s crouched over it, ripping it apart, feathers flying.
“Good girl,” I say. “That’s a very good girl.”
Her head whips my way, as if I startled her. Bits of bird hang from her beak, which is kind of gross, but I can’t let her know that. I need to praise her for catching her meal. It’s the first time she’s brought down a bird in flight, and I’m impressed.
“You’re going to be fine, aren’t you, Tiera?” I say.
She stares at me, nictitating membranes flicking over her amber eyes. I’m moving through the forest to get to her, and before I push past the final branches between us, she hisses, her wings flying up, head ducked low, tail whipping.
I stop short, shocked and hurt. “I’m not going to steal…”
I trail off. There are still leaf-laden branches between us, obscuring my view of her, but as she hisses, my heart thuds with a terrible certainty.
This is not Tiera.
No, it must be. She is a predator, after all. It’s understandable that she’d complain if I get too close while she’s eating.
Except Tiera has never done that. She’s fed from my hands since her birth. On this trip, she’s brought me food to share, and I’ve had to take mangled fish from her and pretend to eat it.
Full-grown gryphons won’t fit in these woods. But that doesn’t mean we won’t find a gryphon from the aerie here…a juvenile like Tiera, also learning to hunt.
A crash sounds in the forest, and then Malric’s there, grabbing my tunic and pulling me back.
“I know,” I whisper. “That’s not Tiera.”
I retreat carefully as the young gryphon watches me. When I bump into Malric, I absently lay my hand on his head, reassuring myself he’s there. I realize my mistake, but he only moves closer, his shoulder against my hip.
The young gryphon takes a step toward us. I stand my ground. It takes another. Then it sees Malric, and its beak opens in a hiss, fur and feathers puffing.
“We’re sorry,” I say, my voice calm but firm. “We didn’t mean to disturb you. We’re going to—”
The gryphon rears, front talons slashing. Then a squawk of challenge…coming from my left. I wheel, my mouth opening to warn Tiera back. There, charging through the undergrowth is yet another young gryphon.
Seeing us, it stops short and lets out a shriek. Another answers from behind us, and then another, and before I have time to do more than pull my sword, we are surrounded by five young gryphons, three of them bigger than Tiera…all of their beaks bloodstained from hunting.
It wasn’t the hare that startled those ptarmigans.
It wasn’t the ptarmigans taking flight that startled the hare.
I’d marveled at this little forest, so conveniently located near the aerie. Such an unlikely location for a patch of forest, especially one that the gryphons couldn’t even use.
Not the adult gryphons, maybe. But young ones? Juveniles just learning to hunt and in need of a safe place to do so?
There’s a forest contained within our castle walls. That’s where Rhydd and I learned to ride
and to hunt. That’s exactly what this forest is. A training ground for young gryphons.
It’s one thing for an animal to choose a nesting spot in a good location, easily defensible and near water and plentiful food. But what kind of intelligence did it require to see a patch of woods on a mountaintop and think, That would be a good spot for our young to learn hunting?
What if they actually built it? Saw a patch of earth and scrubby trees and brought seeds, growing trees that would attract hearty mountain animals and birds. Maybe that goes too far, but it is possible and if so…
I’d spent weeks studying Tiera’s mother, but with her in captivity there’d been little opportunity to assess her true intellect. I’m not even sure how to comprehend this degree of intelligence in a beast, and I live with Jacko and Malric, excellent examples of just how clever monsters are.
All this wonderment, though, passes in a few heartbeats before reality knocks me in the back of the head…or in my backside, as Malric thumps me. The warg is reminding me that, instead of marveling at the intelligence of these creatures, I should be thinking about the fact we’re currently surrounded by five of them, each big enough to kill me.
The smallest gryphon steps our way with a curious chirp, but a bigger one flaps into its path, hissing at it.
I raise my sword. To my left, a gryphon shrieks, and when I look, it’s bristling, beak snapping, amber eyes fixed on my sword.
So I sheathe it.
Malric snarls at that, but I don’t know what else to do. I cannot fight five young gryphons, even with Malric by my side. Nor can I tell them I’m not here to hurt them…while wielding a sword. I just got finished thinking how intelligent they may be. I need to respect that.
Is it easy to put my sword away? Absolutely not. No monster has earned my fear more than gryphons, and my time with Tiera has only tempered that fear with respect.
I look at these five gryphons, and I don’t see five Tieras. I see Jannah, coming home with the head of a gryphon…and my father’s body slung over his horse. I see a gryphon bursting through a barn roof, grabbing my brother by the leg and snapping it like a twig. I see that same gryphon dashing my aunt against a rock and killing her. I see all of that, and when I sheathe my sword, my hand shakes so badly I can barely get it in.
As I do, a voice inside screams at me that I’m a fool, a reckless fool, and I’m going to die, just like my father, just like my aunt. But there’s another voice, one I feel more than hear, and it says this is the right thing to do, and when I look across at the gryphons, I swear I see Jannah there, nodding her approval.
I remember my mother, telling me how much I’ve learned from Tiera and her mother. I remember her telling me how much she’s learned, her hatred for an entire species finally fading. I know so much more now, and I must trust my gut. That’s what Jannah would tell me. Trust my knowledge and my gut.
“I’m unarmed,” I say. “I apologize for trespassing. We’re going to leave now.”
I lift my hands to show that they’re empty. Then I lay my hand on Malric’s head.
Stop growling, Malric. Please stop.
To my shock, he does. He gives a grunt, one that says he doesn’t approve of my strategy, but he’ll go along with it. For now.
I raise my hands again, slowly. Then I glance over my shoulder and see the biggest opening between gryphons. I start backing that way. One lunges at me, and I grab the hilt of my sword. Just grab it, still sheathed. The gryphon stops, head tilting in a way I know from Tiera and her mother. Assessing. Considering. Then the beast stands down, almost as if it had been testing how fast I could go for my weapon.
I keep my gaze on the gryphons and I trust in everything I have learned about their body language. As I back out, the gryphons follow, their wings tucked in, their tails twitching. Like our cats when a fox invades their barn and realizes its mistake. It retreats, and they follow, ready to pounce at any provocation.
As they follow, they slide together into a solid wall of gryphons, a semicircle around Malric and me. Five more steps, and an earthy mountain breeze wafts past. Almost there. Then the trees overhead crackle and crash, and an ear-splitting shriek slices through the forest.
I look up to see Tiera—undoubtedly Tiera—diving, screaming in rage, her gaze fixed on the largest of the young gryphons.
“Tiera, no!” I shout. “No!”
My voice startles one gryphon, and he flies at me, his front talons grabbing my left arm, ripping through leather, slicing into me. I yank out my sword and shout, “No!” as loud as I can. I shout as if this simply is Tiera playing too rough and the gryphon lets go.
Beside me, Malric snarls, front paws planted, head between his shoulders. Tiera veers at the last second and heads for me, shrieking at the gryphon who’d grabbed me. I leap between them, and she crashes into me, and we tumble into a heap.
I spring up, hand going for my sword again, but the gryphons are all staying back, staring at Tiera. And Tiera, recognizing her fellow monsters, bounds over in greeting…No, not exactly. She doesn’t recognize them at all, having never seen another gryphon. To her, they are strange predators who attacked her mother, and she hisses at them, feathers ruffling as I put my arm around her and rub her neck and tell her it’s fine. Which makes the five young gryphons stare even more.
I play it up, petting Tiera and cooing at her, and she nuzzles me and then hisses at the young gryphons again. When she lowers her head, I scratch behind her ears.
“Good girl,” I say. “Such a good girl.”
Great. You’ve stunned five baby gryphons. Now I suggest you take advantage of that…
I start to back away again. Tiera stays where she is, snapping and hissing at the gryphons. A warning display, one that keeps them where they are, while Malric and I back out of the forest. I glance over my shoulder to see a wide expanse of rocky ground. Then I look forward again and call to Tiera. She begins her own retreat.
My boot finally touches down on rock, and then sun warms my back for an eye blink before it disappears, as a cloud rolls overhead. Then a thud sounds behind us, and every muscle in my body freezes.
I turn, ever so slowly…to see a wall of white feathers blocking my view.
I lift my gaze…straight into the amber eyes of an adult gryphon.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I fall back. My heel hits a rock and I trip, landing flat on my back. I lever up just as the gryphon lowers its massive head, beak coming so close I smell its honey-sweet breath, feel the blast of hot air as it exhales. That beak opens, and I reach for my sword, but the sheath is caught under me.
Malric snarls and lunges onto me. The gryphon shrieks, the sound deafening. Its beak opens to snap—
An answering shriek sounds from the forest. Tiera charges out, screaming a high-pitched gurgle of rage. She flies straight at the adult, her wings extending, beak snapping. The gryphon falls back, blinking. Tiera leaps between Malric and the giant beast. She rears up, hissing and clawing the air. The adult only blinks again. Then it lowers its head, carefully staying out of range of those slashing talons.
A whoosh of inhaled breath, a loud sniff. Then the adult sits on its haunches and looks at her. The five juveniles tumble from the forest, making the yipping sounds I’d heard from Tiera when I’d come to see her in the barn. They scramble over to the adult, who flicks her huge head at them, telling them not to bother her.
I think it’s a her. Both females I’ve known—Tiera and her mother—have light-brown fur. Two of the juveniles, including the biggest, are darker brown. This adult is at least as big as Tiera’s mother, but now that she’s sitting back on her haunches, I see grizzled gray in her fur, scarring on her chest and a beak worn with age. An old gryphon that the juveniles obviously know well. Teacher? Caretaker? Nursemaid?
The big gryphon eyes me. Then she looks at Tiera. I slowly rise and lay a tentative hand on Tiera’s shoulder. She ke
eps her gaze on the adult, but lets me pet her and leans against me as I scratch. The big one tilts her head as she watches, thinking.
I straighten, as best I can, and meet the old gryphon’s eyes. “I brought her for you. To leave with you.” I gesture between Tiera and the gryphon. “I can’t keep her, and her mother’s dead. She needs to be with her own kind.”
The gryphon doesn’t understand what I’m saying. I’m talking for my own benefit, hoping that my tone and my gestures and maybe the fact I’m here—a human bringing a juvenile gryphon to the aerie—will tell her what she needs to know.
In my head, I hear Jannah’s voice.
Look at Malric. Take your cues from him.
The warg is on guard, but his posture is neither aggressive nor submissive. Whatever body language he reads from the gryphon tells him there’s no immediate threat. When I stop freaking out, I can see that myself. She’s calm and attentive, and also very aware that she could kill either of us with a snap of her beak.
As I talk, Tiera sniffs my wounded arm, her beak clicking with concern. Blood has soaked through my tunic. I roll the sleeve to see a gash. Shallow, but bleeding.
“Just a moment,” I say to the adult gryphon. Then I use Dain’s dagger to cut off my shirt sleeve, slit it up the middle and use it to bind the wound shut.
When I look at the gryphon again, she’s staring at my arm.
“It’s fine,” I say, lifting it.
I’m ready to launch back into my appeal when she moves toward me. It’s an easy step, not a lunge or a dart, and I force myself to stay still. Her gaze remains fixed on my arm. Does she smell the blood? I know that can drive some monsters to a frenzy, but I’ve never heard that about gryphons, and she certainly doesn’t seem frenzied. If the blood were to catch her attention, it would have done so when I first walked out.
She approaches and lowers her head toward my arm. I steel myself, planting my feet and holding my breath as I lift my arm for her to see. She sniffs it, eyes it and then backs away as I exhale, my heart tripping with relief.
The Gryphon's Lair Page 21