The Gryphon's Lair

by Kelley Armstrong

  His beak stops mere inches from me, and he inhales deeply. A rumble in his throat, and I’m wondering what—

  The aerie. He smells the aerie on me.

  Oh no. He can tell I’ve been to the gryphon nursery, and he’s going to think I invaded it, that maybe I hurt one of the juveniles and—

  He pulls back, and my hands grip my sword tighter. His gaze locks with mine. Sweat drips down my face. My heart hammers.

  Aim for the throat. He’s close enough that if he attacks, I can aim for the most vulnerable spot on his thick hide. The place where his feathers meet his mane. An artery pulses there, and I do not want to hurt this beast, but if he misunderstands the aerie smell and attacks—

  He moves closer again, and my knees tremble. I grip the sword so tight that it digs into my sweat-slick fingers.

  Attack. His throat is right there. You can kill him before he hurts you.

  I hear the words, but it’s the wrong voice. It’s the voice of survival at all costs. Kill or be killed. That is the voice of fear. Under it there’s another whisper, one that courses through my veins. The voice of Jannah, of my Clan Dacre blood.

  He’s not attacking. He’s figuring this out. Let him do that. You know he’s smart. Trust him to get it right.

  My breath catches, but I force myself to stand perfectly still. Jacko hisses, and Sunniva grumbles, and the ceffyl-dwr tosses his head, but those are only warnings. They do not sense threat, and I need to trust them, too.

  The gryphon sniffs me again. Up and down. When he reaches Jacko, my heart slams against my ribs. The gryphon only sniffs, though, and then gives me one more snuffle and moves back. He sits there, for what seems like forever, as sweat drips from my chin. He sits, and he considers. Then he rises to all fours and turns around, putting his back to us. His wings flutter, preparing to extend.

  He’s leaving. He’s realized that I could not have invaded his aerie and survived. Not unless the nanny gryphon allowed it.

  I exhale as those wings spread, and he gallops across the ledge, getting up the speed to launch and—

  Something hits him in the back. He shrieks—a cry of shock more than pain. Shock that he’d trusted us enough to turn his back, and we attacked him. But it isn’t us. It’s the gray alpha warg. She’s jumped from above and landed square on his back, and he plummets, the warg atop him.

  I race to the end of the ledge to see them below, the warg ripping into one of the gryphon’s wings, right at the base. Blood soaks the white feathers, and the gryphon shrieks in rage and rolls onto his back.

  I race down the slope. That survival voice shouts that this is my chance to flee, but I run, sword raised. Behind me, both equines let out a neigh of confusion.

  The gryphon is fighting a warg, and you’re running toward them?

  Jacko tears down the slope with me. I barely reach the bottom before I spot two more wargs. They leap at the gryphon as he backs away, talons and beak flashing. He grabs one warg and whips it into the rock, and I flinch, my blood running cold as I see my aunt’s body again. The shock only lasts a second, though. There are two more wargs coming at a full run.

  The alpha had escaped the lake and retreated into the forest to recover and regroup with her pack. Then they spotted the chance of a lifetime—a gryphon out of the air and distracted.

  Now they have the gryphon grounded, his wounded wing held at an odd angle. He keeps backing away, keeps retreating.

  Why is he retreating? He’s big enough to fight them.

  The gryphon glances my way, and I understand. He’s leading the wargs off. Getting them farther from us, where he’ll fight while we run.

  That survival voice screams that I should take advantage. Don’t worry about the gryphon, he can take care of himself. But I didn’t listen to it before, and I’m not about to listen to it now.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I put Jacko on Sunniva’s back and tell her to get out of here. Then I tell the ceffyl-dwr to do the same, motioning for him to flee into the lake. He seems confused, but he’ll figure it out.

  The gryphon is fighting the wargs, snatching them up and whipping them aside. He doesn’t have time to do more. As soon as he grabs one, another attacks, so he keeps throwing them off. They hit the ground and the rocks, and one goes clear into the lake, and when the gryphon realizes that, he shifts his battleground to where he can pitch them into the lake, which slows them down. They still come back, though, battered and bleeding. They will not give up as long as their alpha fights alongside them.

  I know what I need to do.

  The alpha is smart, darting in for the attack only when the gryphon is busy with another warg. She bites and then dances out of his reach after he throws off his latest attacker.

  As she zips back from another bite, the gryphon sees me running toward her. Our eyes meet…and he ignores the two wargs closer to him and charges the alpha. He grabs her and throws her hard into a tree.

  By the time the alpha recovers from the blow, I’m there, swinging my sword. She evades, and I barely nick her, but I manage to block her attack. We face off, circling. Out of the corner of my eye, I see another warg running at me. The gryphon tries to grab him, but two new wargs barrel from the forest and attack the gryphon.

  I swing toward the warg charging me, knowing that opens me up to the alpha. As I’m turning, a dark shape slams into the charging warg. It’s the ceffyl-dwr stallion. He knocks the warg to the ground, rears over him and comes down, the warg yowling as those sharp hooves trample the beast.

  The alpha lunges at me. I block, and the others are forgotten as we lock into our private battle. Her teeth scrape my arm once, and I get in a few nicks, but she’s too smart to come close enough for a solid blow. At a noise behind me, I half turn. My attention is still on the alpha warg, but she sees her chance and charges. That’s my chance, and I swing hard, my blade on target—

  Something smacks between my shoulders. It’s another warg. I pitch forward, and I manage to keep hold of my sword and land in a roll, hitting the ground flat on my back. I raise my sword, but it’s too heavy to swing from this position. I try to lever up. The new warg grabs my sword arm.

  The alpha looms over me, triumph shining in her dark eyes. She paws the sword blade, as if dismissing it, mocking the human who is useless without her weapon. I quake beneath her, shivering with fear, unable to meet her gaze, my eyes half shutting as I shrink into myself. Her eyes gleam brighter. Her opponent is exactly where she wants her, cowering before the killing blow. She eases back, as if to enjoy the scene for one last moment…and I strike.

  I slam my knee into her stomach and my fist into the bottom of her muzzle. The other warg starts in surprise, releasing his grip on my sword arm just enough for me to jerk it up, the blade catching him in the underside.

  I leap to my feet and swing at the alpha. The sword chops into her shoulder, cutting deep. She tumbles back, and I fall on her, swinging and parrying and driving her toward the rock of the hillside. She’s still fighting, snarling and snapping, but I have her in retreat. Then an arrow slices through a loose fold in my tunic.

  “Hey, princess! Stay out of the way of my arrows!”

  I grumble, even as my heart leaps. Dain and Alianor are here. A black streak blurs past me and launches at the wounded alpha.

  “Rowan!” Alianor shouts. “Watch—!”

  Another thump cuts her short. Two thumps, actually, in quick succession, and I wheel to see the other warg, his charge cut short by Dain’s arrows as Alianor runs at him, her dagger raised.

  The other warg falters. He doesn’t drop. He’s only injured. But when he recovers and sees me on one side and Alianor on the other, he starts backing away. That isn’t all he sees either. His alpha lies motionless on the ground under Malric, her throat torn out.

  The warg turns tail and runs. I glance at Malric.

  “That was mine,” I
say.

  Alianor thumps my shoulder. “You had her dead to rights. We know that. Toss the old boy a bone, making him feel better for failing in his bodyguard duties.”

  Malric growls at her.

  “Hey, pup, don’t glower at me. I was talking about him.” She hooks a thumb at Dain.

  Dain opens his mouth to reply when a dark shape streaks toward us. They fall back, Dain raising his bow as I cry, “Don’t!” It’s the ceffyl-dwr, his muzzle and hooves bloody. He trots over to me and eyes the other two. Alianor says something, but I don’t hear it. I’m already jogging ahead. I find the gryphon where I left him, still fighting two wargs. The others are dead or gone.

  As I run toward the gryphon, my sword raised, Dain shouts, “Princess!”

  “Where did he come from?” Alianor exclaims. “And why is Rowan running at him?”

  “Don’t hurt him,” I shout back as their footfalls pound behind me. “Just help him fight the wargs.”

  When the gryphon throws off one of the wargs, I charge it. So does Malric. The warg scrambles to its feet and sees us. Its gaze fixes on Malric. Its nostrils flare, and it must recognize the scent of the alpha’s blood, because after a quick look around, it turns tail and runs.

  Malric chases the warg just far enough to be sure it’s not coming back. By then, the last warg fighting the gryphon realizes it’s the last warg fighting the gryphon…and takes off.

  That’s when the gryphon spots Malric. He shrieks and charges, and I launch myself between them, waving my arms. Then I pet Malric, who suffers through it as slightly preferable to being chewed by a gryphon.

  The gryphon backs off and shakes his head. His wings extend and then settle back as he sits, observing us.

  “Your wing,” I say. “It’s hurt. Can I…?”

  I notice he’s not holding it at that strange angle anymore. I ask permission to approach and bring Alianor, who trots over as unconcerned as if he were the size of a house cat. We check his wing. It’s cut, but fine.

  “You were faking,” I say. “Pretending you couldn’t fly so they’d be overconfident…and you could still fly away if you needed to. Clever.”

  “Uh, princess?” Dain says. “Why is this ceffyl-dwr sniffing me?”

  “He likes you,” I say as we finish checking the gryphon. “It’s a sign of affection.”

  “And licking me?”

  “Also a sign of affection. If he tries to take a nibble, firmly refuse, however tempting it is to let him.”

  “Uh…”

  “Little ceffyl-dwr, please do not nibble Dain.”

  “At least you haven’t named him,” Dain mutters as he steps away from the overly inquisitive beast.

  I check a cut on the gryphon’s front talon, and he lifts it to let me look closer. “Thanks for the reminder. I’m thinking…” I purse my lips. “Devourer of Small Children and Cranky Hunters. Doscach for short.”

  Dain snorts, and I’m showing Alianor the cut when an arrow glances off the beast’s shoulder, making it rear back, its talons smacking my shoulder and knocking me to the ground.

  Alianor wheels on Dain, her mouth opening, but he isn’t holding his bow. I scramble to my feet, running in the direction the arrow came from, shouting, “Stop! We’re okay!” There, running toward us, is Wilmot with his bow raised. Kaylein is right behind him as Yvain and Swetyne follow.

  “It’s okay!” I shout. “The gryphon’s with us!”

  They slow, looking very confused, but obviously we’re right beside a gryphon that is not attacking. They lower their weapons.

  “Wait there, please,” I call. “He’ll leave soon, but Alianor and I need to finish examining his wounds, and you’re making him nervous.”

  “We’re making him nervous?” Kaylein says, gaping at the gryphon, twenty feet away. “Princess, I understand you want to help this beast, but I’m going to need to insist you get behind us—”

  “No,” Yvain says as she catches up. “The princess knows what she’s doing.”

  “That’s—that’s—” Kaylein says.

  “Yes, it is, and if you feel you are remiss in your duties by allowing the princess to get close to it, then may I point out that the beast is calm, and upsetting it may be more dangerous than allowing Rowan to do what she wishes.”

  “Yvain’s right,” Wilmot murmurs. “Go ahead, Rowan. We’ll stay back unless we must intercede.”

  Alianor and I clean the gryphon’s wounds with lake water. When he’s ready to go, I step back.

  “Thank you for your help,” I say, dipping my chin.

  The gryphon steps forward, and I steel myself, but his giant beak lowers over Alianor and he sniffs her thoroughly, as if committing her scent to memory. Then he sniffs me the same way, up and down, that sweet-hot breath blowing over me with each exhale. When he pulls back, I exhale myself, in relief, but then that beak swings toward me and before I can move, it knocks into my chest. It’s a light knock, more of a nudge.

  “I think he’s telling us it’s okay to leave,” Alianor says.

  “Or telling us to leave,” I say. “He’s sayinging thank you very much for the healing, but you can go now. Please continue going until you’re off my territory.”

  She chuckles. “That might be it, too.”

  We step away, and the gryphon extends his massive wings and takes to the sky. Once he’s gone, I jog to the ceffyl-dwr and stay beside him as I call Wilmot, Kaylein, Yvain and Swetyne over. Sunniva lands beside us, and I take Jacko as I explain about the ceffyl-dwr and the gryphon as quickly as I can.

  Kaylein and Wilmot look at each other. Then Wilmot says, “I think we’re going to need the longer version. Much longer.”

  Yvain chuckles and says, “So do you still doubt you have a natural gift for monsters, child?”

  She’s right. I have something, and it is both gift and curse. I attract monsters, which puts anyone near me in danger. But I understand them, too. I want to understand them, and I think that makes a difference.

  For now, I only know that I have achieved what I set out to do—returned Tiera to her own kind—and that we have a very long walk ahead of us.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Without a raft, we have to walk the whole way home. We follow the river, and see no sign of the ceffyl-dwr herd. The young stallion sticks close, though, and I suspect that’s more about Sunniva than me. I think he’s just happy to find another young equine monster. Alianor insists he’s in love. Whatever the answer, he stays with us and quickly learns that if he wants to make friends with Sunniva, offering her dead fish is not the way to do it.

  While I keep expecting the ceffyl-dwr to wander off, I must prepare for the possibility that he won’t. So every night, I work on training him not to nibble people. It’s harder than you’d think, but he eventually figures out that humans give food; they’re not food themselves. He stays with us, swimming in the river, trotting alongside Sunniva and playing with Jacko.

  When we need to cross the river at one point, he insists I ride his back. After that, I ride him for a little each day. Sunniva doesn’t fail to notice that, and she doesn’t fail to be annoyed by it. She’s fine with me riding my mare, but this seems different, and she seems—dare I say it—jealous of the ceffyl-dwr. She’s not ready for me to ride her yet—I haven’t forgotten the disaster with the wyverns—but I begin to see a possibility, perhaps not too far in the future.

  Yvain and Swetyne break off near Dropbear Cabin. They’ll speak to their family and meet us at the castle. We continue on our long walk, our journey punctuated with tiny adventures until, finally, we are back in Tamarel and truly on our way home.

  * * *

  Three months ago, I rode this same route back with a wagon-bound gryphon. This time I left the castle with a gryphon…and return without her. That still hurts. Every day it hurts. But every day it hurts a little less, and every day I a
m a little more confident that Tiera is happy and will ultimately be happier than I could ever make her.

  I’m also, just a little, pleased with myself for having done this. Not for having survived the voyage—harrowing as it was—but for having made a hard choice. When I first felt Jannah’s sword on my back, I thought that would make me feel grown up. It didn’t. This does. I did a very, very hard thing, a thing that was right for everyone else, as much as it hurt me.

  Jannah always said that a royal monster hunter’s life was full of excitement and adventure, but sacrifice, too. I thought she meant getting injured or losing hunter friends, but now I see there’s more to it. We put the kingdom’s needs above our own. Always.

  When I came this way three months ago, Rhydd rode out to meet me. And so he does again, having been notified by a runner that we were on our way. He comes astride Courtois, galloping down the dirt road, dust flying behind him. Seeing him, I smile, but my insides twist a bit, too, as I realize this is how it will always be, my brother riding to greet me after a grand adventure…rather than riding in at my side.

  Rhydd is destined to be king, and he can no longer join my adventures, no more than Mom could ride out with Jannah and Dad on theirs. I know that hurts him. It hurts me, too. We’ll get through it, though. We’ll find our own smaller adventures together.

  I urge my steed into a canter as I hang on for dear life. Rhydd doesn’t get within twenty paces of us before Courtois stops short, snorting and tossing his head, his horn glittering as he eyes my mount.

  “Is that a…ceffyl-dwr?” Rhydd says.

  I pat the beast’s neck. “It is.”

  “You took a gryphon and returned with a ceffyl-dwr,” he says as he shakes his head.

  Alianor rides up beside us. “It’s sibling rivalry. She tamed a pegasus, and you started riding a unicorn, so she brought home a ceffyl-dwr. Your move.”

  Rhydd laughs. “I think I’ll stick with Courtois.” He rubs the unicorn’s neck. “Sorry, boy. Looks like she brought home another equine monster to share your pasture.”