On the Subject of Griffons

by Lindsey Byrd

  Mori must have had such knowledge in his library. She should have planned ahead. Of course there would have been times she would need to spend a night in the dark. Of course she should have prepared for such an eventuality.

  Growing up, she had pressed her face against the windows of her home and looked out into the night. She had seen monsters in the shadows and been told one thing: do not open the doors or step outside. Stay within the building until the sun came back up. When it rose, she could as well. The night was no place for the living.

  “We need to set up a camp,” Aurora told her. “With a fire ring. Get enough wood to last through the night. So long as we got a fire, they can’t cross it.”

  She was right, of course. It was why the towns always lit rings in circles around themselves. Why they always burned candles. So long as there was a fire, the wraiths wouldn’t attack them. At least, they shouldn’t. Ghosts and specters were far less restricted, but if Rachel was anything to go by . . . so long as you didn’t intend them harm, they wouldn’t harm you in turn.

  Settling Aiden down by Aurora’s side, Kera drew herself up to her full height. “Wait here. I will find us some wood.” Aurora bit her lip and wished Kera good fortune.

  It felt strange, to leave them behind on the side of the road. But the strangeness soon shifted into a need for supplies. She couldn’t squander the precious few hours they had left. The sun was fast descending, and they needed to have a camp set up with all the proper protections in place.

  Scanning the ground, Kera snatched up twig after twig. She held them in her arms and hummed about Mrs. Mary little mouse as she gathered her first bushel, all the while searching for a better place for them to camp. Right off the road seemed dangerous, as anyone or anything could happen upon them, and they didn’t need any more disturbances in their lives.

  She managed to locate a flat area that would be serviceable within the first few minutes. There even appeared to be a ring already dug into the ground from a previous traveler’s time there. Depositing her collected sticks in a heap, she returned to Aurora and the children and informed them of her discovery. Kera moved the horses first, tying them off to a new post, before returning to fetch Aiden. “I need you to stay here with Holly, all right?” she asked him. Tears started slipping down his fevered cheeks. “Holly’s going to take good care of you, but you need to stay here so I can help Aurora with Faith. Do you understand?”

  “Uh-huh . . .” She kissed his brow and fetched Mori’s book once more. She pressed them both into his hands. He was far too young to read, but he could look at the pictures and feel the rough parchment pages. “I’ll be right back,” she swore.

  Her mind conjured an unpleasant image of Mori scolding her for being so reckless with their youngest son and his favorite horse. Shame warred with reality. Aurora needed her help. She had to help her, propriety be damned. Leaning down, Kera hoisted one of Faith’s arms over her shoulders, and Aurora did the same on Faith’s other side. They heaved her upward. Her numb legs dragged beneath her as they walked over the misshapen roots and difficult terrain.

  Aiden watched them approach with both hands wrapped tight around the books. “Good boy, Aiden,” Aurora praised. “So brave.” He didn’t smile. They settled Faith on the ground next to him, then worked on getting the saddles and saddlebags off the horses. Both animals needed to be tethered inside the ring’s outline, and Kera checked and double-checked that there would be no way for them to wander on the opposite side of their perimeter.

  With both children more or less settled for the moment, Aurora helped Kera find more wood for the fire. They collected as much as they could, from the smallest twigs to the thickest logs. They stacked their collection in the center of their camp, then hurried out to go find some more. Kera’s muscles ached as she bent down for handful after handful. Her back was far too tight. Her legs and arms were cramped. The complaints were never-ending.

  “Have you ever seen a wraith?” Kera asked Aurora as they worked.

  Her companion took a few moments to answer. Kera was tempted to ask again, in case she hadn’t heard, but Aurora opened her mouth before she could try. “I have,” Aurora confided. Her lips pursed and her nose scrunched. It was as if she smelled something so rancid she could taste it in the air. “A few times.”

  “What are they like?” Kera asked.

  It was one thing to hear an owl hooting in the forest, but another thing altogether to see the bird in question. Much the same, Kera knew the sound that wraiths and spooks made, but aside from a rustle out her window, she had never laid eyes on them. Books attempted to draw them, paintings depicted them from time to time, but the subject matter was not often spoken about. She imagined a living shadow. One that hated and killed. She imagined death.

  “They’re awful,” Aurora told her. “Wicked skeletons floating through the air, still wrapped in the shrouds they’ve been buried in. No flesh or muscle. No sinew to hold the bones in place. Just them floating about. Shrieking loud and horrid. Fingers reaching out to tear you to the ground. You know how wraiths are made, right?”

  She didn’t. Children’s songs and poems didn’t count.

  Aurora didn’t wait for her to reply. Just kept talking, distracted ramblings as if it would make things easier for her as well. “They’re dead who want to live. Who’ll trade anything they can for a bit o’ life. I’ve seen ’em when they get their hands on a living being. You know what that looks like?”

  “No.” Kera’s arms were full now, but she waited for Aurora to finish before returning to camp.

  “They dig their fingers into the body, and they’re like rabid dogs. Scratching and biting. Tearing you completely apart. Probably thinking that if they can get to the heart of you, they’ll get your life as their own. Maybe it’ll make them real people again.”

  Kera shivered at the idea. “Has that ever happened?” They walked back to their encampment, quick as can be. Aiden had moved to sit closer to Faith, pressing himself to her side.

  “A wraith coming back from the dead? Don’t know. Just know that they try to do whatever they can to do just that.”

  “Not all dead do it though,” Kera murmured. “General Zakaria used to keep a lightbringer at camp. He recruited only the highest quality priests, ones with documented records of providing blessings that kept souls from becoming trapped after the body dies. Depending on where they were, the lightbringer would come to the camp and bless each one of the soldiers before battle so they’d never be trapped in a march.”

  “Well that’s mighty kind of him, but it don’t change the fact that there were lotsa battles where those lightbringers weren’t around chanting prayers or swinging their staffs to blessing folks with.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Left a lot of people damned and dead one way or another. And they’re still marching about even now.”

  “He couldn’t get everyone . . . but he tried.”

  “Does trying really matter in cases like this?”

  Kera hesitated, biting her lip as she tried to formulate an answer. When one came, it was Aiden who provided it. Nestled against Faith, Aiden spoke sleepily around a thumb in his mouth, fevered cheeks glowing bright. “Mama says that trying matters no matter what.”

  Aurora smiled at Aiden, expression softening. It lost some of the jagged edges that Kera had become accustomed to. “Your mama is a very determined woman, little one. I don’t think she even knows how to fail.”

  “I know how to fail,” Kera argued.

  “Take the compliment, Lady.”

  “Was it a compliment?”

  “Yes.” Dropping their loads, they hurried back to the woods. Kera filled her arms with as much as she could, while glancing over her shoulder at Aurora, back toward the kids, at the horizon. No matter which way she looked, there were thoughts and emotions spiraling uncomfortably out of control.

  The woods felt bizarrely claustrophobic. The trees, though not particularly close together, seemed to squeeze all the air ou
t of existence. She sucked in deep breaths, heaving as she gathered more wood. “You know . . . Death marches aren’t the same as wraiths.”

  “Same basic thing. Both come out at night, both can kill you. Both are mean.”

  “My father said not all death marches are mean. They don’t know they’re dead, they just act as they would when they were alive.”

  “People don’t generally die violent deaths if they don’t have a streak of meanness in them. And even if they weren’t mean before, it don’t change the fact that the end result of the march is they’re going to die. If they get you trapped in their story because you’re there too, you’ll die with them. Ain’t no getting out of that.”

  “And wraiths?” The trees felt like they were sliding closer together. Dark shadows stretched out across the ground. The leaves plotted against the sun. Kera swallowed thickly, almost seeing the nightwalkers hiding in the gloom up above. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She shook her head, trying to get the image loose. Curling her arms around her load, she turned back to camp. Aurora snatched up a few more sticks, then followed.

  “Wraiths are worse. I’d take a death march over a wraith any day, and I ain’t saying that lightly, but wraiths move around. They’re not tied to where they died. Can travel anywhere they want, and do anything they want. And they’ll kill anything. My ma said they’re always trying to figure out how to come back to life, and they’ll do anything to get there. At least you can avoid death marches . . . don’t know how you can avoid a wraith.”

  Kera walked faster, desperate to get their fire started sooner rather than later. Their haul still seemed too small, but it would have to do. She couldn’t bring herself to go back out into the woods. Not with the shadows growing longer and their children lying undefended on the ground. Aurora didn’t argue as she started to dig the fire ring, she just followed her lead and began arranging the wood in a line.

  The ring needed to be wide enough so they didn’t choke on the smoke, and deep enough that it didn’t catch the rest of the woods on fire. It was a delicate balance they needed to keep, and Kera’s hands shook as she dug and stacked and tried to strike the fire into life. She knew what she needed to do. She knew how to do it, had been lighting fires since she was a child. But no matter how many times she struck the metal against stone, she couldn’t get a spark.

  Aurora came to her side and gently took the materials from her shaking hands. “We’re going to be all right,” she said. Then she aimed the bit of steel at just the right angle, and sent sparks skittering onto the twisting patch of bark and grass just waiting to burn. Some of the tension left Kera’s body. “We’re going to make it through,” Aurora swore. But as the sun set, the fire line seemed so small and inconsequential in the face of the nightwalkers that screeched through the night.

  Deep in the woods, the dark was moving.

  Kera and Aurora sat next to each other, their children on their laps, huddled in close for warmth and security. Though who was securing whom, Kera wasn’t quite sure. Both Aiden and Faith were awake. Faith had an arm looped around Aiden even as Aiden snuggled against Kera’s shoulder. Aurora supported her daughter’s weight and movement without so much as a grimace. A twig snapped in the woods. All four looked toward the noise like rabbits caught in a snare, waiting for the predator to come and finish the job.

  Aiden sniffled. He buried his head on Kera’s shoulder. “There’s a monster out there.”

  Kera felt the common parental refrain tickling against her tongue. There’s no such thing as monsters. It was a lie that didn’t bear repeating. Monsters were real. Lying about it was pointless.

  “Fire’ll keep us safe,” Faith said, voice cracking. She hadn’t spoken much since her fit. Even when they’d managed to get something together for dinner, she’d only nibbled on a few bits of salted meat and choked on her water. She couldn’t take in much more than that.

  They were running out of time.

  “You remind me of my Cirri,” Kera said, plucking a stray twig from the girl’s hair. Her heart hammered. Another creaking noise filtered up from the woods. She needed to swallow twice to make sure her voice came out steady. “She always held her siblings when they were ill.”

  “I miss Cirri,” Aiden said, rubbing at his eyes and sniffling around his sleeve. “And Junior and Auggie.”

  “I know, love, I know . . . I . . .” Kera glanced toward Aurora, but the woman appeared to have nothing to say. She stared back at Kera with her lips sealed tight, and anxiety coiled about Kera’s heart as she looked down at the children. “Would you like to hear a story? It’s one of Cirri’s favorites.”

  “A story?” Faith asked, peeking up from behind Aiden’s curls.

  “Yes, unless you have a preference?”

  “Ma doesn’t know any stories.”

  Aurora swatted Faith lightly on the arm like a bad actor in a play. She went through the motions and said her lines: “You’re filled with slander you are. I told you all kindsa stories and you know it.” But the feeling wasn’t there. Her attention was lost. Her eyes kept flicking to the fire, the smoke, the woods.

  Faring much better in her role as rebellious child, Faith grumbled out a very firm, but very certain, “Not recently,” that left Aurora sputtering. Her cheeks were already flushed in the firelight, but they turned even darker now. She shook her head at Kera as if to convey some secret emotion or thought that Kera was meant to divine by pure movement alone. But all Kera could focus on was how enchanting Aurora looked when flustered. Something in hear heart ached. It was the first sign of something good since the night began. She smiled, blinking back tears that seemed to form all on their own. Anxiety birthing a maelstrom in her head.

  Kera took on the role of confident maestro, and showed her smile to Aurora’s girl. “This story is my daughter’s favorite, and I have it on good authority that it’s rather well spun. Would you like to hear?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Adjusting her position so she could keep Faith and Aiden comfortable throughout the tale, Aurora slipping in closer to share in their warmth, Kera began.

  “Years ago, before the kings of Faron built the empire of Trent, and before Rochendiel faded away into the boundaries of Ruug, before even Absalon was unified under one banner, the gods walked among men.”

  “A religion lesson,” Aurora scoffed. “Truly?”

  “Hush. Now. There are three gods of course, Life, Death, and Time—”

  “And there was a girl too, right?” Aiden asked. “Sarah.”

  “Sera, and yes. But Sera wasn’t Death or Time. Sera was an Arnocian beauty, a princess of sorts who lived far from her homeland. Back then, the ancient land of Rochendiel had conquered Arnok, and it took its people captive. Sera and her brother Terentheen served the Rochendien King’s household, and it was there they met Life. They were just people. Just ordinary people who cooked and cleaned and fought in the service of a king who wasn’t theirs. But Life long coveted the life of a human. Life played a game you see, where It would live as a human, age as a human, and then return to live again over and over. Lifetime after lifetime, reinventing Itself on each occurrence.

  “Life grew up with young Sera and Terentheen. It played with them in the kitchens, It trained with them in the yards, and of course: It loved them deeply for they were Its and It was theirs.”

  “Life loved a human?” Faith whispered in the dark.

  “Oh yes. Life loved them both fiercely, and even married Sera. Life created a child between them too. She should have been nothing to a god, just a moment in Life’s eternal existence. But instead she was Life’s world. It was consumed by her. It even swore to give up Its divinity so It could live and die with her as a mortal.”

  “Life wanted to give up being a god?”

  “To It, an eternity without Sera was inconceivable. It loved her more than Itself. More than all of existence.” Faith tilted her head closer, her wide eyes flickering just as Cirri’s had when she’d first heard the tale so
many years ago. Kera leaned down and kissed her brow. She traced her fingers through her hair. “But a god cannot die, and though Life wished to stay with her always, Death would not claim Life’s soul when It came for hers.

  “Death killed Sera? Because she loved a god?

  “Because Life was preparing to destroy all of reality for her. Death will always reap souls. Death will always in the end come. But without Life to act as a balance, soon there would be nothing left. Nothing except Death and Time locked in a stalemate, neither capable of creation, and both forced to wait for all eternity. Ending Sera’s existence seemed to be the only option to them.”

  “And this is your daughter’s favorite tale?” Aurora asked, attention already shifting back toward the fire line.

  Not to be dissuaded, Kera pressed on. “But Time took pity on Life’s broken heart. Time listened to Life’s anguished sobs and Its desperate pleas. Time begged Death to reconsider Its position, and together they created a bargain with Life. Death agreed to return Sera’s soul to the world. If Life loved her, Life would find her. And so Life slipped back through Time. It reshaped Itself, rebirthed Itself, remade Itself, over and over, again and again. New mothers and fathers welcomed Life into their home, never knowing that their child was a god after all. Life grows up every day, in every person on this planet and all the infinite lives that exist in our universe. And Sera’s always there somewhere, waiting to be found.

  “Sometimes they find each other early. They’re neighbors who meet and grow up and spend a lifetime of bliss at each other’s sides, then one dies and the other soon follows, both to be reborn somewhere else. Then, they might spend decades searching for each other, both shaped by new occurrences and new families.” Cupping Faith’s cheek in her palm, Kera smiled. “When you find the right person, the one that completes you, it’s your foundling. Life and Sera rejoined at last. Living out their perfect bliss between you.”

  “’S’nice story,” Faith whispered. She closed her eyes and snuggled closer to her mother, coughing just a little as she settled. Kera adjusted Aiden so he was resting against her, smiling when she noticed he was already asleep. Finally. It took only a few minutes more before Faith slipped off as well. A few minutes where Aurora sat perfectly still beside Kera, looking out at the fire with the most peculiar expression wrapped about her face.