The Keeper of Tales

by Jonathon Mast

  I felt the need to somehow respond in kind. The words found my mouth as I bowed low, falling to one knee as best I could. “Greetings, first hatch Kree’Ah. May the wind aid you in all your flight, and may the earth below not hunger for your weight.” I crossed my arms at the wrists before me, pointing all my fingers down.

  I could feel the weight of many eyes upon me, but I stayed where I was. A movement stirred within my heart, and I felt Cerulean’s approval.

  Kree’Ah came to me, and I felt a single paw placed lightly upon my crossed hands. “Rise. You are worthy to mount me, you who speak so wisely. We shall convey you wherever you wish to go, to the Dark Lands and beyond. We shall fly to the sun itself for you, if you call.” The voice was quiet now.

  He removed his paw, and I stood with some small difficulty. My knee did not appreciate the stone it had been placed on.

  So, Keeper of Tales had some perks, perhaps? Words finding me, fragments of stories I never knew coming to me at the right time. Oh, but only when it would be useful, in a story, to come.

  Again, it was one thing to tell a tale, but another entirely to be in one.

  Kree’Ah moved to my side and sat upon his haunches as a cat might, his wings folded. He loosed a shrill whistle into the sky, and once more the other griffins shot into view. Kree’Ah whistled more short bursts. Whistles and cries answered before the other griffins fell out of view.

  Lazul once again hefted his extra roll harshly, but it did not move. He had given very strict instructions to the one wrapped within. Kree’Ah noticed this but said nothing. Now that I saw the griffins, I doubted we could hide anything from their gaze. Should I speak now? He had given us a great honor. Somehow, I knew that just by speaking the correct words we had won ourselves loyal companions, not just mounts. And to be dishonest with them seemed very wrong, even dangerous.

  Did the tale call for honesty or cleverness?

  I looked into Kree’Ah’s face, for it was near mine.

  Honesty. It should be honesty.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but his beak moved first and let out a very small voice. I did not think any others atop the windy Tower would hear it, except perhaps Yolian. “I know. You have moved to speak; now let the others prove their worth by speaking. Should they not, they will not be borne by my clutch.”

  And so, this was it. This was the test, at least of the others. I was not sure we would succeed.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Another griffin landed as deftly as Kree’Ah had. He had similar markings, but the stripes of his lower extremities seemed to continue onto the feathered part, as every here and there was a dark feather. One of the feather tufts that protected his ears was dark. He looked about, seeming to evaluate those around him. He walked to Daragen and looked at him carefully. “You are not worthy.” The voice was deeper than Kree’Ah’s.

  Daragen was not taken aback. “Of course not. But your…” he hesitated, looking for the correct word. “The first hatch of your clutch has said that you will bear us. You will do as he said, if you will be worthy to be in his clutch.” The small man did not back down, though the griffin was much taller than he.

  “You have spirit, dwarf. If you prove to be trustworthy, I will bear you where we fly. I am called Kereh’Kah.” The striped griffin moved so he was sitting beside Daragen. Daragen looked about to speak up about being called a dwarf but thought better of it.

  The next two griffins landed as one. They appeared stronger and larger than the two that already occupied the roof of the Tower. One had a large scar over his left eye. The other’s beak was sharper and more menacing than any of the others, perhaps because it turned crimson near the tip. They stalked forward, looking from one side to the other.

  The one with the scar chose Abani. “You are to be my burden. Will you weigh me down?”

  Abani bowed to one knee, her head down. “Only my heart is heavy with grief.”

  “Wisely said. I am Ka’Keneh.”

  The other, with the blood-red beak, stepped to Lazul. “You smell of offal. I will not bear you when you reek as such, nor will any of us. Speak now. Why does this stench flow off you?”

  Lazul looked furious, and he gripped the blankets rather harder than he should have.

  Test of honesty. The dwarf should pass with warmth to spare. And is that why the tale twisted? It couldn’t be that easy. I’d expect a tale to test a dwarf for humility instead.

  Lazul restrained himself from throwing down the blankets and cursing the goblin concealed within. Finally. he muttered, “Dwarven and griffin sensibilities must vary greatly.”

  “You look to find the best way to speak, even though your anger would have you take another action. There is some wisdom about you, I see. I will take you. My name is Eh’Kanah.”

  Both Ka’Keneh and Eh’Kanah turned to sit beside the ones that would ride them.

  Ah. So it was about humility for him.

  But... we still all had to speak honestly to our mounts. Would we?

  A fifth griffin landed on the ledge. His eyes were bright gold, and his head darted this way and that. He spied Galatea. “What does the wind tell you?”

  Galatea closed her eyes and listened before answering. “It tells me that I am far from shore.”

  “And what is a shore?”

  “The shore is a place of safety. It has no danger and no adventure.”

  “And you long to face danger?” The griffin stepped closer, examining Galatea.

  “I know the cost of adventure. But I’ve seen boredom as well. I’d rather live my life without fear.”

  “And your cloak. It does not have your scent.”

  Galatea hesitated. “It was a gift. From a friend.”

  “Very well. I am Kerek, and I shall bear you.” He sat next to Galatea.

  “This is our clutch,” Kree’Ah declared.

  Yolian looked at me, at Kree’Ah. Opened his mouth, closed it.

  I ventured, “We have one more to bear. Should he sit with one of us?”

  “No,” the great griffin answered. “He will be left behind.”

  I suppressed the urge to panic. “We need this elf with us. He is necessary to our journey.”

  “Then choose another to be left behind.” Kree’Ah turned away from me.

  I looked over our company. We had lost so many already. Was this the price of carrying the goblin? We had an extra one there, and now had to give up someone else?

  No.

  No. We would not lose another here simply because a griffin didn’t want to carry someone. “There must be another way,” I said. I used a more authoritative voice, the one my wife called my “king voice” and so often laughed at. The one that people listened to.

  Kree’Ah turned to me. “Oh? You would demand that we carry all of you?”

  “No,” I answered swiftly. “No. But if we cannot all go with you, we will find another way.”

  “I see.” Kree’Ah looked to the horizon. “There is another. He will carry your elf.” And he released another shrill whistle.

  We waited. The wind blew. Our shadows lengthened.

  The final griffin flew over the edge and landed heavily, falling to his knees. He panted heavily. His feathers were tinged yellow, and his eyes were not as alert as his brothers’. He glanced this way and that, looking for a person he could serve. Finally, he spotted Yolian. “I guess you’re all that’s left,” he said as he turned to stand beside the elf. He did not give his name.

  Kree’Ah stepped forward. “We will all kneel now. You will all mount in front of our wings, immediately behind our necks. It is best for you not to cling too tightly to our necks, as we need them to fly safely. Simply squeeze your legs firmly.” At this he kneeled and gestured with his head. It was time for me to mount him.

  The other griffins did the same, and we all mounted them as best we could. As Kree’Ah stood, I found myself gripping his neck.

  “You will loosen your arms if you wish me to bear you westward.”

  I ma
de a conscious effort to obey. Soon we were all settled, but I had no idea if the others had passed the test of honesty. What would happen? Would the griffins drop their burdens? Would we fall from the sky? Would any but I be delivered safely to Garethen’s home?

  I turned my head, looking every way I could, trying to see the faces of my companions, trying to determine what they had done, trying—

  Kree’Ah raced with feline grace toward the edge of the roof. He leaped. We plunged. The wind blew into my face as if I stood on the plains near my home again. My stomach, though, didn’t feel at home. I resisted the urge to grip his neck again. The wings behind me unfurled as the griffin hurtled headfirst into the dive, spiraling. I kept trying not to strangle him and concentrated on keeping a grip with my legs. The mountain floor rushed up to meet us, faster, ever faster.

  Finally, his beating wings found the air, and we were lifted up. My mount was crying out, and it took me a moment to realize he was laughing. Between cries he spoke to me in a tongue I could understand. “This is where griffins were created to be. We are to be in the sky!”

  And indeed, as he rose up, his wings thundering behind me, I could see nothing but blue sky above us and the mountains below. My panic was left behind. My emotions soared. I raised my hands and lifted my arms over my head, letting the wind move through my fingers. My beard flew every way in the wind, and my eyes teared from the breeze. Yet this was joyous. I found myself laughing.

  Never in any story had I dreamed of riding in the sky. If this is what it meant to be in a tale, perhaps it was not so bad.

  Soon I spotted the others around us. Lazul clung much more tightly than was necessary, and he buried his head in feathers. Daragen was acting much the same. Yolian, like me, had his arms out in the wind. Galatea laughed and patted her mount. Abani stood upon the back of Ka’Keneh and spoke to him. I could not hear her words over the wind.

  Nearly everyone seemed to be smiling.

  And for hours, we flew safely. For hours, it seemed we had passed the test. I finally began to relax.

  The sun rose behind us, and about midday I dared to look below instead of focusing on sky alone. I was surprised to see the mountains far behind and the wastelands of northern Parvia below. I could already see what I thought was the far border of their lands. I shouted into Kree’Ah’s ear, “How fast do you travel?”

  “As fast as the wind blesses us.” I heard joy in his voice.

  “How far have we gone?”

  “We shall be at the border of the Dark Lands by nightfall.” His voice dropped. He did not relish the idea of coming so near the den of the Black Serpent. I did not blame him.

  “Will you bear us so far?”

  “I have vowed to bear you wherever you go. If I mean to remain the first hatch of the clutch, I will do as I have said. Should I ever prove false, I will dash myself onto the rocks to break my wings, never to fly again.”

  Suddenly Abani leaped off her griffin, flipping backwards with her arms out. I saw a smile on her face.

  Abani. Smiling.

  As she arched back and began to plummet headfirst, the griffin spun and dove. They raced each other for a time, and then Ka’Keneh leveled his fall so Abani could reach out and remount. Then the griffin spread his wings, and they soon rejoined us at our height.

  Galatea cheered and clapped. Both Daragen and Lazul had completely missed the spectacle since their faces were still buried in feathers. Yolian spoke enthusiastically into the ear of his smaller mount, but it shook its head.

  Kree’Ah chuckled, his voice making an odd crowing. “Younger hatchlings always endeavor to boast in their abilities. It is not enough for them to simply soar with the sun upon their backs and the ground far, far below.” He cried out into the air, a single joyous call. The sky was enough.

  We rode in silence until the sun was deep in the west, blinding me.

  The land had become sandy marshes and eventually long stretches of rocky dunes. Jagged, dark hills ahead rose into another set of mountains. I recognized them from the many stories that spoke of them. This was Raumioch Beti, the Jaws of the Demon. Their appearance struck me with fear. A tale must be told to pass them, but this close to the foul lands, indeed, upon their threshold, it was told from the perspective of the Fallen Lord. I did not look upon this tale with eager expectation.

  “Do you mean to encamp tonight on the Jaws?” I shouted once again into the ear of the magnificent creature I rode.

  “I do. It will be a good vantage, and safe, as we will be able to see anything approach us. We prefer the heights; anytime we roost in lowlands we find ourselves nervous.”

  That settled the matter. I would be telling a tale of dark words tonight.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  We had come so far in a single day: from the mountains of the Graz, over Parvia and the Unclaimed Marshes. Even now we sped across the fields that had once seen mighty battles in days of old, when Garethen marched openly against all the races. These fields had many names, for every race and nation named them after their own heroes. My own men would have called them Daviel Udenae, the Daviel Courtyards. Daragen would have named it Vaedu Goblen, the Betrayal of Goblins. In truth, all the names were accurate.

  Many stories still fought and clashed down there, stories from both sides of the divide that lay before us. It would have been difficult for me to guide us safely through without one story or another attacking us for not speaking correctly. I was grateful the griffins carried us over them. Grateful that I didn’t have to think about how powerful the stories were over us.

  I realized we had not told a single story all day. “Don’t we need to tell any tales in our travels?”

  “Ha!” Kree’Ah shrieked a laugh. “Griffins are not concerned with such things. Stories are the invention of your kinds, and we fly above them. We speak our histories and traditions only in certain places so they do not gain lives of their own.”

  “I thought your mother was killed when you were still so young you needed aid to survive. How do you know your histories?”

  “The first hatch of any clutch knows what he needs to know, passed on in the white of the egg to nourish both body and heart. Then the first hatch teaches all the others of his clutch.”

  The griffins didn’t have to worry about stories controlling them, but still told them. I mulled the thoughts as we flew on toward the Jaws.

  Each mountain appeared like a column, or perhaps a tooth, jutting straight up from the ground. They were huge, taller than any other peaks I had ever seen, including the Spires of the North. Their sides seemed to rise straight up, creating a sheer cliff face. They lined up next to each other in a long row as far as my eye could see. Between each fang-like spire was a narrow valley, so narrow I doubted even the griffins would be able to easily pass through.

  Kree’Ah whistled and shrieked to his clutch, and they all dipped momentarily before rising higher into the air, until we came level with the tops of the mountains. They were each topped with a level plain perhaps a hundred paces wide. Sparse trees spotted their summits. By now the sun had sunk deep into the west, so all on this side of Raumioch Beti lay in shadow, though the tops of the mountains themselves were still bathed in dying light.

  The griffins angled their wings to slow our flight. Kree’Ah landed first and quickly laid down so I could dismount. The others came in quick succession, in the same order they had landed when we met them. None of the griffins seemed to be winded except Yolian’s nameless mount, who wheezed. The other griffins did not comment on it.

  The tooth we landed on had a stand of trees, a thicket, near the center. The branches were tightly packed together. We would not be able to enter it even if for some reason we chose to. Otherwise the surface was a rough, flat place. We were separated from the teeth on either side of us by a narrow chasm of perhaps five paces; a healthy man with a running start would be able to leap across.

  Abani bowed graciously to her mount. The two shared a quiet laugh. Galatea stroked Kerek’s feathers b
efore turning to set a fire. Daragen began circling the top, looking for defensible positions and where best to set the watch. Abani circled the opposite direction. Yolian patted his mount’s side and went to inspect the grove. Lazul threw down his extra bedroll, rolling off Eh’Kanah. The griffin seemed to chuckle a bit at this.

  Kree’Ah addressed me. “We will go and nest for the night. Be ready at dawn to fly.” He did not await an answer. He flew off the edge of the tooth, and the other griffins followed him. They swept away on the wind, turning and angling for another tooth far away.

  Lazul watched. “They’re leaving us here?”

  I shook my head, “I doubt it, unless one of us did something to offend them.” I looked down at the dwarf. “You could have handled Badron a bit more gently, you know.”

  Behind us the bedroll stirred, and a white head poked out. “Mighty dwarf has strong grip. He held tightly the whole trip. Badron did not fall; for this it is thankful. A fall so high would be painful.” It came forward and bowed to the dwarf. “I am indebted to you as well, master.”

  Lazul wrinkled his nose. “Get away from me.”

  “Yes, master.”

  Badron scurried to the thicket and began searching through its edge.

  “And what is it doing?”

  “Probably setting up camp,” I answered. “It may be searching for firewood for the rest of us. Did it really just thank you for abusing it?”

  “White goblins aren’t the smartest things in the world, are they?” The dwarf took off his pack and began rummaging through, searching for one thing or another. “That may be all the more reason not to trust it.”

  “Did you tell your griffin about his extra burden?”

  Lazul stopped searching and looked up at me with a guilty expression. “Yes. He kept battering me about the smell. I finally lost control and told him it was the goblin I was carrying in my bedroll.” He scowled and buried himself in his search again.