On the Subject of Griffons

by Lindsey Byrd

  She would not lose one more thing she cherished. She refused.

  “You have other children,” Ciara reminded her, as if she didn’t already know that. The words slapped across her face with the same brutal force as a physical blow, and Kera clenched her teeth against them. She glared at her sister until Ciara recoiled. Ciara stammered an apology, saying, “I meant only that you have other children under your care. Ones who equally need their mother.”

  “Ones,” Kera reminded right back, “who will survive quite well under their beloved aunt’s care.” She was a tree. Unbent. Unbroken. Unmovable. “Ones who even now are traveling north to Crystal Point to escape illness. I shan’t see them even if I stay here with Aiden. And . . . should I stay with Aiden, I am not long for this world either. I will catch the plague same as he. I can either die here in this home having done nothing, or I can find the griffons and save my son.”

  Ciara didn’t seem to know what to say to that, so Kera said it for her. “So long as there is breath in my body, I will not allow another to dictate my life story.” Then, drawing herself up as high as she could go, Kera said, “I am the Widow Montgomery, and I will not allow tragedy to rule my life. Aiden will not die.”

  For the first time in her life, Kera had rendered Ciara speechless.

  It was the only good part of the day.

  Kera attacked the issues surrounding her departure with clinical precision. She drew up two lists, cataloging each item she would need for her journey, and then sent her sister to collect the materials. Food, medicinal herbs, and additional clothing were placed on the table in the drawing room for future organization. Kera found her husband’s old saddlebags and readied them for packing, all the while thinking about the most important means she had for the journey: her horse. Or rather, her husband’s old warhorse, a tall chestnut mare named Holly.

  Holly was calm and dedicated, with a fearless demeanor. She’d carried Mori into battle after battle, from camp to camp, without faltering or questioning his resolve. Raised in a warzone, Holly never flinched at the sound of gunfire. Kera had heard stories from multiple sources that said Holly was an anomaly in the field. She never reared up or misbehaved, and she followed Mori around like a lost dog.

  For his part, Mori used to treat her with all the tender care of a family member. He’d rubbed her down each night, checked and cleaned her saddle, addressed any and all sore spots, and rested her when she went lame. He’d written letters to Kera whenever he had a moment during the war. In each, he would include a passage about Holly. They’d never failed to make Kera smile, and she’d found herself wishing both Holly and him well as they continued to fight for their country’s liberation from Trent.

  Mori had introduced them after the war. He’d been rather giddy about it. He’d taken Kera by the hand and babbled as he brought her to the stable. He’d told stories as Kera stroked Holly’s dark mane, and Kera nodded her head as she listened to each one. When her husband had fallen silent, Kera’d taken Holly’s face between her hands and thanked her for her service. She knew full well that her husband would have died without a dependable mount, and Holly had saved his life more than once. Scars lined Holly’s flanks. Mori’d rarely spoken about how they happened, but Kera knew that each one served as a record of her husband’s tenuous grasp on life.

  The horse, unaware of Kera’s heartfelt gratitude, had spread her lips and whinnied in Kera’s face until she produced a sugar loaf for consumption. She was, and always had been, a spoiled beast.

  After the first war had ended, someone in the Overwatch had commissioned a portrait series for war heroes to be displayed in the new capital. General Zakaria had insisted Mori submit himself for the production, and he (grudgingly) did as he was commanded. The painter had expressed interest in creating a masterpiece displaying Morpheus Montgomery the Great and Triumphant War Hero Returning From Battle. Mori brought Holly to the studio; he was informed that a stallion could be provided for the final product.

  Mori responded the way he always did when he took offense: He refused. Unless Holly was in the painting, he would not take part in the commission. “She’s the best horse you will ever know,” Mori insisted. “I shan’t dismiss her merely because she’s turned old. We all age, and I’d have accomplished nothing without her by my side.” The general had to intercede on his behalf, and the painting was completed in due time. Holly had been the only horse to have her portrait done for the capital series. But as far as Kera and Mori were concerned, she’d more than earned her place in their nation’s history.

  Holly was old now. She’d fought through two wars and outlived her brave soldier in the end. She deserved to live out her retirement in peace as a proud member of an elite rank of equine. She didn’t deserve a final journey in her twilight years.

  But she was the last horse in Kera’s possession. The children’s ponies and her own mare had been sold long ago. All of their tack and riding apparel had been traded for food and supplies, leaving only Mori’s old war things. Despite her impressive résumé, Holly would never have fetched a good price at market; she was too old for that. But that hadn’t been what stayed Kera’s hand in the end. Holly was family. She was one of the last remaining parts of Mori’s life that Kera had left.

  She would never be sold.

  The mare huffed when Kera entered the stable. She walked toward her with slow, measured steps. “Hello, my dear,” Kera greeted as she rested her hand on Holly’s muzzle. Holly lowered her head for a scratch along her nose. She was as mild-mannered and steady on her feet as she always had been. She didn’t sway or shift about. She stood still and awaited her inspection.

  There was a comfortable routine for this. Mori taught Kera it long ago, and she fell into the pattern with great ease. She checked Holly’s legs and back; she pressed her hands along Holly’s spine. Holly twisted her head to watch Kera, but didn’t complain even when Kera came to rest by the scars on Holly’s flank. “Morpheus tore his arm beating that griffon from you,” she murmured, tracing her hand along Holly’s rump.

  Holly whinnied at her and puffed hot air from her nostrils. Her hooves stomped against the ground, forcing Kera to smile. Petting the mare’s neck with a firm hand, Kera took a deep breath. She trailed her fingers along Holly’s throat until she could cup Holly’s face between her palms. The stomping stopped. Holly lowered her head so she could look into Kera’s eyes. “My son is ill,” Kera informed the mare. “I know you are old, and you deserve your retirement. I know I am not Morpheus, but I need your help. You’re all I have . . . all I can afford . . . and I need to get to the Long Lakes. There’s a griffon nest that may have the cure to Aiden’s illness. Will you help me?”

  Holly puffed air into Kera’s face. Her bangs ruffled from their place above her eyes. Kera blinked as Holly whinnied. Then, she smiled.

  Good enough.

  Kera reached for a halter and secured it on Holly’s head, then she attached the lead rope and led her out to the crossties at the center of the stable. Mori always brushed Holly down before a long ride, and so Kera started now. Considering how empty the stable was, it took longer than necessary to find the appropriate tools, but Kera was dedicated to doing it right. She found everything, then set to rubbing her hand in small circles to knock the dirt off with a currycomb.

  Holly’s head hung low, and she dozed while Kera worked, too geriatric and content to bother being alert. Kera didn’t mind. She used the time to consider her plan and reject the errant thoughts that kept telling her how foolish she was being.

  Ciara had spent the better portion of the past hour attempting to talk her out of this. She’d suggested that they hire a team, perhaps someone with military training, or expertise, or anyone else. But Kera held fast. She consulted Mori’s Bestiary and committed herself to her argument.

  Griffons would attack any party of more than five who entered the outskirts of their territory. Soldiers and hunters alike were torn down by exhibiting the intent to kill or disrupt their territory. They scen
ted fear and they were brutal against those who bothered them. Mori only managed to survive his encounter because he’d stumbled upon them. They hadn’t known he was there, and he hadn’t known he was there, until they were all on top of each other in a panicked mess.

  A team of reckless soldiers would no doubt be destroyed by the griffons, and she could not allow her own terror to obscure her intentions. She didn’t need to kill the griffon. She just needed to get close enough to collect a few feathers or find some talon shavings near its scratching trees. She could use both castoffs to help Aiden.

  “I won’t even be in any danger,” she reminded herself for the twelfth time that day. Perhaps she wouldn’t even see the beast. Perhaps she would find the nest while it was out hunting.

  Holly snorted herself awake, shaking all over as she decided if consciousness was right for her. Dust rose through the air, causing Kera to cough and lament her poor care of this horse. When Holly glanced at Kera, her expression seemed almost wry.

  “You’re right,” Kera sighed, resting her head on Holly’s flank. “I didn’t think it would be that easy either.” Luck, she had learned, was rarely on her side.

  Fetching her husband’s saddle, Kera attempted to hoist it from its rack. Her arms quaked under the great weight, pushing her down into the earth. She heaved, hoisting with all her strength. “I’ve,” she gritted out, “carried . . . eight children . . . you . . . terrible . . . thing.” Up it went, dislodging from its peg and sending her stumbling a few steps backward. Regaining her footing, she approached Holly. “And I—” she lifted as high as her arms could lift, Mori’s saddle hanging awful and heavy from her fingers “—can carry you.”

  She grunted and struggled to get it up. Just a little more . . . just a little—

  Holly’s hooves danced, irritation flickering in her expressive brown eyes as she twisted her head toward Kera. The saddle was on Holly’s back, but so was a stirrup. It had gotten caught on the throw and now lay on Holly’s spine beneath the weight of the obscene saddle. “Just stay still,” Kera ordered the mare, walking around her and fixing it on the other side.

  No. Wait. She had missed a step. With the stirrup in place, the whole image came complete, leaving Kera blinking at the saddle sitting on Holly’s naked back. She’d forgotten the saddle blanket. Kera ran a hand across her brow and took a deep breath. “Right,” she mumbled. “All right.”

  Reaching up, she pulled the saddle off Holly’s body. She grunted loudly as it slipped from her fingers and struck the ground. Dirt splattered the leather paneling, and Kera glared at it. She fought the temptation to yell at the awful thing or kick it out of spite. Marching back to the sparse tack room, she snatched the blanket meant to protect Holly’s back from the rough rubbing of the saddle.

  Laying it along Holly’s body, she almost felt Holly’s approval. The horse was all but snickering at her as she went to retrieve the saddle from the ground. “You laugh, but you must bear it,” Kera warned. Holly was impervious to her threats, pretending as she was to be invested in Kera’s ministrations.

  Bending her knees, Kera drew in a deep breath. She got her hands into position, this time ensuring that the far stirrup was hooked over the pommel for when it went over the horse’s back, and lifted. Her thighs burned as she hoisted the saddle upward, but she carried the momentum with her. Gasping as she lifted the saddle up, up, up—and it was over. The horrible contraption settled onto Holly’s back, looking far too innocent considering the trouble she’d had getting it in place.

  Sweat slipped down her nose. She rubbed her face on her sleeve. It was impolite and indecent, but she knew full well that there was no time for propriety while they were on the road.

  As quick as she could, she buckled the saddle into position and looped the leather lines where they should be. When she went to cinch the strap beneath Holly’s belly she tugged up, waited several moments for Holly to exhale, then tugged again. The horse had mastered the art of expanding its chest until the cinching was over, and then releasing its breath so the saddle was far too loose. Even if Kera hadn’t ridden in some time, she remembered Holly’s trickery. Holly let out an unamused huff as Kera cinched the saddle tight.

  “Foiled again,” Kera informed her without the slightest bit of remorse. Holly’s tail flicked in annoyance, and Kera rolled her eyes. She pat her neck a few times, soothing the horse with some broad strokes along Holly’s throat. She needed to leave soon. Ciara was working on getting her traveling gear prepared, and Kera needed to go in to check on her.

  But just for a moment, with no one around to see, Kera rested her head on Holly’s shoulder. She wrapped one arm around Holly’s wide neck. “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered.

  Holly’s head dropped. It was almost an embrace. Kera leaned into it, pulling back only when she felt Holly’s lips mouthing at the pockets of her clothes, searching for the treats she always used to keep on hand.

  “Priorities, eh old girl?” She nudged the mare’s head back so she could step away safely. “Just have to keep my priorities straight.”

  Then she turned, and walked back inside.

  Ciara was pacing when Kera stepped in through the front door. Kera’s bags were already packed. They just needed to loop it over Holly’s rump and they would be ready to travel. Aiden could settle in front of Kera as they rode. His small body would fit with Kera’s in Mori’s saddle. It would be a tight squeeze, but it would work.

  “Don’t do this,” Ciara requested again. “Please, there are other ways. This is a rash decision, and you have no idea what’s out there.”

  “I’ll be bringing The Absalonian Bestiary and Herbalism with me.” She lifted both books as evidence, then slid them into the top of her satchel.

  Ciara scowled at her, her lips pressed together. “You will die, you understand that, don’t you?”

  “I will die no matter what. And when I do, I shall join my Morpheus.” Kera knew the words would break her sister’s heart. She knew that they hurt Ciara in a way that was unfair and unkind. Ciara lifted her fingers to her mouth and took half a step back. But Kera held fast. It was the only excuse that would work with Ciara. “Kiss me goodbye, sister. For either I will die here with Aiden from plague, or I will die trying to save him. But I will not survive this illness unless he does.”

  Ciara rushed forward. She wrapped her arms around Kera’s body and held her close. She pressed a hand to the back of Kera’s head and sobbed loud and un-ladylike. “I have just lost my dear brother-by-law, and now you shall rid me of you as well? You horrible child!”

  Kera eyes started to burn, but it did nothing to weaken her resolve. Her mind was already made up. “Will you pray for me, Ciara?” she asked instead. Ciara promised she would. “And the childr—”

  “Shall want for nothing. You must promise to send me updates when you can. Post them to Crystal Point, we’ll stay there until the worst of this is over.”

  “I promise.” If Mori could manage to pen letters in the midst of two wars, Kera could manage on a safe (she kept reminding herself that it was safe) ride to the Long Lakes. The threats were the various types of nightwalkers that haunted the nights and a griffon she likely wouldn’t see. The former was resolved by staying in a town at night, the latter was irrelevant. She was going regardless of whether she’d encounter a griffon or not.

  Food and lodging were Kera’s key concerns. Aiden’s health was fragile, and who knew who else he could infect on their journey. No one could know that he was ill. The governor had already put a ban on travel for the infirm. Some cities had even locked their doors to travelers in hopes of keeping the plague at bay. She needed to stay in a city to avoid a night outside, but the logistics . . . were complicated.

  Kera would manage, though. Somehow, some way, she would manage. “Do not sell my home.”

  “It will stay with the Montgomerys until they choose for it to leave their hands,” Ciara agreed.

  Kera tried to think of what else needed to be done. Mori had ma
de her promise to update her will after his death, and she’d done so not long after the funeral. She’d sat in front of a solicitor and had spelled out her affairs. She’d used Mori’s old paperwork as a template and divided the estate as best she could. Aside from the limited financial sums each of the children would receive, she’d ensured there were dresses for Cirri and Kerri, Mori’s war uniform would go to Junior, and all of them would have equal ownership of their vast library.

  Kera’s affairs were, fortuitously, already in order. She had nothing more to fear.

  Kissing Ciara’s cheek, she walked to the couch and lifted her young son into her arms. His fevered brow pressed against her chest. He nuzzled her in his sleep as she listened to Ciara collecting the saddlebags. There was a brief passing game as Ciara finished with the saddlebags, took Aiden from Kera, waited for Kera to mount Holly, then passed Aiden back. All the while, Ciara kept her comments brief and perfunctory. Her displeasure was a tangible thing clawing at Kera’s back, but Kera distracted herself with wrapping her arms tight around her son and adjusting her position in Mori’s saddle. Her feet felt awkward in the stirrups, but it was manageable. She breathed deep. I can do this. I am the leader of my household. I can do this.

  Kera memorized her sister’s jawline, her eyes, her dark skin, and black curly hair. Ciara was a beautiful woman. She hoped she’d see her again.

  “We will see each other again,” Ciara said, as though reading Kera’s mind. Her wise eyes sternly focused on Kera’s face. “Even if it’s in the next life, we will see each other again, my wonderful sister.”

  The temptation to stay threatened to rear up again, so Kera tore her eyes from her sister’s face. She took a deep breath clicked her tongue.