by S. M. Boyce
“As am I,” she confessed.
The crowd hushed. He laughed, but the mirth was short-lived.
“How could a woman, brazen though you may be, unite warring kingdoms?”
“With all respect, I think your focus should be more on the Bloods and their ability to think about what’s best for their people.”
Another tense murmur bubbled through the crowd. She could see civilians and soldiers alike throwing glances at each other. Ithone hadn’t laughed this time.
“I’m sure you know this, Vagabond, but our kingdom has always been wary of your kind. Especially so of your master.”
The image of the blood-soaked Helen flashed in her mind, but she took a deep breath and clenched her fist to stay calm. He eyed her without blinking. She wanted to squirm, but held his gaze instead.
“Your master was a truly powerful man,” he continued. “In fact, it seems the more he spoke of peace, the stronger he himself grew. My ancestors found this to be an odd correlation. But though we were cautious, he still managed to steal from us.
“Not only did he steal Kirelms from the very bloodline which defined them, but he stole our most prized possession. You recall the griffin that brought you here? He is of a race of beasts even older than my people. When the Vagabond lived, there was a stallion unlike any other that was stolen from beneath our noses.”
The voice from her nightmare rang in her mind. “You are a thief.”
Her body froze in a brief pang of terror. She shot her eyes left and right in what she hoped were subtle movements, but there was no exit. Soldiers lined every wall, and they’d even closed in behind her to block the stairs.
A thousand years ago, the Kirelm people had killed off the vagabonds. She was sure of that, now. They might have even killed the Vagabond himself. They still hated him. He’d insisted that she wouldn’t die today, but even the first Vagabond could be wrong.
She took a deep breath, held it, and let it slowly free. The only way out of this was convincing Ithone that she was on his side, so maybe she should’ve just worn that stupid dress. His voice boomed, pulling her from her thoughts to the throne room and its immediate danger.
“There are rumors that the first Vagabond sealed away our prized griffin in his book, as a pet.” He bellowed his next words as an order. “Show me the Grimoire!”
Her back was rigid and unyielding to her attempts to relax, but she did manage to stretch out her palms. She didn’t want to brush the pendant or betray where she kept the Grimoire, so she took another deep breath and focused on the image of her book instead. Ash appeared from the thin air, swirling and congealing in her palms as she summoned it. The Grimoire’s red cover bled from the dust, and its weight settled into her fingers. The crowd gasped, but their king was unimpressed.
“Show me our griffin,” he ordered.
Her heart skipped a beat, but his scowling face made it clear that he was serious. She looked down at the Grimoire and flipped open the cover.
“How do I bring out this griffin?” she asked too quietly for even her own ears to hear.
The pages flipped for several painful seconds, but they finally landed on the image of a griffin more regal than the one she’d ridden. The graceful curve in its neck continued to its beak, and it looked up at her from the drawing. There was no text to instruct her.
She traced the outline of its form. A rush of wind pummeled through her hair at the touch, stinging her ears and numbing her cheeks with its fury. White dust spiraled around her, pooling into a loose figure. The sharp curve of a beak appeared in the whirlwind, followed by a beady black eye. All at once, the rest of the dust blew away to reveal a griffin that peered over the silent yakona throng from where it towered above them.
It stomped its paw against the floor. The tile cracked. It inched toward Kara and lay down at her side, so tall that its head came to hers even when it was resting. The king laughed and stood, delight lighting his eyes.
“If you return our griffin to us, we will become your allies,” he said with excitement.
The griffin cawed sharply. The painful bark shattered a window behind Ithone’s throne and shook dust from the ceiling. The griffin turned to Aurora and shrieked again before lowering his head beneath Kara’s hand. She swallowed hard.
“I don’t think it wants to come back, Blood Ithone.”
The king didn’t answer. He clenched his fists and glared at the creature, stewing in his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes and fumed. Kara sighed.
“Majesty,” she said, her voice gentle. “Blood Carden killed the Queen of Hillside. His soldiers ambushed me on the way here. It’s safe to say that he at least knows the approximate locations of every kingdom. For whatever reason, he’s going after the Bloods. He’s after you. So don’t start peace talks because you get a griffin. Do it because it’s what’s best for your people, for your nation, and for yourself.”
Ithone leaned forward. “Have you spoken yet with the Kingdom of Losse?”
“Not yet.”
“Then I have a challenge for you. If Blood Frine agrees to these peace negotiations, I will consider them as well.”
He stood and left the throne room through a door on the rear wall of the platform. Aurora and the nameless woman followed him. The civilians dispersed.
What, was that it?
The griffin brushed the nape of her neck with its beak. It was smooth, like a river rock, but it pricked her skin with its sharp edges. She stroked its chin. It cooed.
“You’re not so big and scary, huh?” She smiled and scratched the cool feathers on its neck. The beast squawked and rapped her shoulder in what she hoped was a love tap. She bent beneath it, a sharp pain searing her shoulder. It was gentle, for a giant bird-lion, but it would most definitely leave a bruise.
Someone cleared his throat nearby, and she turned to see Gurien glaring down at her. She swallowed hard at the frustrated glint in his eye.
“Vagabond,” he said, “the Kirelm guard will lead you to the Rose Cliffs, but from there you will be on your own to find the Villing Caves. I’m sure with your vast knowledge of the Grimoire, you will be fine.” He glared at the book, and she wished it away as he continued. “Had we known you had your own griffin, though, we would not have tired one of ours with the journey here.”
He marched toward a set of doors that led to the brilliant day outside. She wanted to tell him that she had no idea about the griffin, but instead watched him leave and hoisted herself onto the creature with what she hoped was grace.
Once she was situated, the griffin stood and followed Gurien into the bright day outside without any need for guidance. She slouched and scrutinized her hands, unable to tell if the afternoon had been a victory or not.
She looked over her shoulder as they passed through the castle’s shadow and, in a lower window of the front-most tower, saw Aurora’s flawless silver face. The princess waved once, and Kara returned the gesture.
Lessons
Wind blew over Braeden’s face as he flew toward the Rose Cliffs with the Kirelm guard on their way to return Kara. He pulled behind to let the other soldiers glide on a draft ahead of him, but they moved at a slow pace and beat their wings only hard enough to coast. None of them joked or laughed like they had in the sparring ring. They focused on the sky ahead, as if only what lay before them had any importance. Apparently, there was no fun while on duty.
He was torn. Kirelm as a kingdom had failed Kara by refusing to take her safely to the Villing Caves. If she’d been attacked on the way to the Rose Cliffs, it was inevitable that it would happen again. However, the truth was that he’d never had as much fun sparring with Gavin as he did in the Kirelm arena with complete strangers. He hadn’t even caught most of the soldiers’ names, and yet he’d been welcomed like a brother and friend from the moment they found him. They snickered and teased like a family. He’d even become a legend for his ability to take a hit in the ring.
“My friend,” a voice nearby said. “We must speak.”
“You’re leaving us at the Rose Cliffs, is that right?” the Kirelm asked.
“I was going to drop off a few miles sooner, so I suppose you could say that.”
“It’s close enough. The general has an assignment for you.”
Uh-oh. He took a shallow breath to keep his voice steady, but his mind raced at the thought of which pants-wearing vagabond it likely involved.
“What would that be?” he asked.
“Follow this new Vagabond. Stay out of sight if you can, since Blood Ithone didn’t tell us to help her, but see that she arrives at the Villing Caves. Send word once she’s been taken by the Lossians.” He slipped a smooth pebble into Braeden’s hand. The rock glowed blue at his touch, and a silver rune materialized in its center.
“What is this?”
“Break it when you arrive. The general will know, then, that she’s safe.”
“Word is that we aren’t fond of the Vagabond,” Braeden said, doing his best to sound nonchalant. “Why has the general asked that I watch her?”
He’d heard the gossip bubbling through the city as they left. The rumors claimed that the new Vagabond was little different from the first. She’d refused to dress in the city’s custom and insulted the general by withholding her griffin, even though the flicker of panic that crossed her face in the throne room meant she hadn’t known about the creature at all. He hoped no one else had seen that.
Still, because the general didn’t seem fond of her, none of the soldiers were taken with her either. If they’d been ordered to kill her instead of send a scout after her, he had no doubt that they would’ve done it without a second thought. It therefore made no sense that Gurien would want the Vagabond kept safe.
The soldier winked. “That’s another reason you were chosen—none of us would volunteer. But you aren’t a member of the guard, yet. Doing this will put you in Gurien’s favor.”
“Then I’ll do it.”
“We suspected as much.”
“I’m honored,” Braeden said after a pause. “But why was I really chosen to do this?”
The soldier looked down at him. “No one has ever spent for more than five seconds in the ring with Gurien. You lasted over five minutes.”
Braeden laughed.
“Now listen,” the soldier continued, “If she’s attacked again along the way, don’t sacrifice yourself to protect her. You’re a good man, and the many others who rallied for her cause in the past died for it. We want you to make the city your home, so come back when you’re bored of that rural hole of a village you come from.”
The Kirelm slapped him on the back in farewell and pointed down to the valley below, implying that this was where Braeden should leave. He twisted his wings and pulled upward, back into the cloud cover with his brothers.
Braeden watched the soldier disappear and shook his head in disbelief, laughing. He’d just been assigned to do the very thing he’d infiltrated the Kirelm kingdom to do. If Hillside ever became unsafe, at least he had a second home.
The valley whizzed by below, nothing but streaks of color in his peripheral vision until he focused his eyes. A herd of deer ran through gaps in the tree canopy, appearing for only a second as he passed them. He grinned. It was easy to appreciate the Kirelm body. Its wings were two extra weapons at his disposal. His sight, hearing, and sense of smell were all sharpened. Even his skin was thicker; he should have been cold, soaring at this speed, but the air ran over him like a warm breeze.
The sweet, biting aroma of roses flooded his nose, so he dipped beneath the clouds. Sure enough, the Rose Cliffs towered over the silent valley, much closer than expected. Rosebuds blocked out sections of the brown rock, blooming wherever there was a gap or crack.
Kara blurred through a break in the clouds ahead. She still flew at the front of the line on her griffin, with Gurien close in tow. The general eyed her, but shifted his gaze away each time she glanced over her shoulder. Braeden groaned. She should have just worn the dress.
The cliffs were only a few hundred feet off, now. He tucked his wings tightly to his body and dove, falling like a rock. The woods loomed closer. Wind poured over him, stinging his cheeks as he picked up speed. The forest pulled closer. He could see the veins in the top-most leaves of the trees.
He spread his wings to slow his fall and slapped them against the air, but he overestimated his own strength and crashed through the canopy. Twigs snapped. Leaves scattered around him. Branches flew by as he maneuvered and ducked. He finally hit the dirt with a thud, knees bruising from where they dented the soil, but the bruises healed as quickly as they appeared. Radiant light shone through a hole in the branches of the tree, marking his tumbling path. He’d have to work on his landings.
Gurien’s distant outline was visible through the hole as he flew with Kara’s griffin to the Rose Cliffs. The company hovered in the sky, beating their wings in quick bursts to keep themselves stationary as they waited. Gurien floated above Kara when she landed, said something inaudible, and returned to his fleet. The swarm of Kirelm soldiers flew off into the distance.
Braeden waited seven minutes before he finally lost sight of them. He looked down at the little stone and rubbed the glowing silver rune before he shoved it in his pocket. The tree limbs were unbroken and sturdy, so he climbed to the highest branch that could support his weight and jumped off. He caught a draft once he cleared the tree top and turned upward, toward the rocky peninsula above, always keeping his distance from the thick clumps of roses blooming across the rock. The origin of the Kirelm bloodline might have been nothing more than a legend, but he wasn’t about to risk anything.
The edge of the cliff came sooner than expected. He scaled the curve and stumbled into his landing, skidding a few feet on his heels and flapping his wings to maintain balance before he managed to stop.
Kara sat on her griffin, looking him over with cocked eyebrows for a moment before she recognized him. She laughed.
“You’re not a graceful bird, huh?”
He shrugged, grinning.
“It’s good to see you, Braeden. I was beginning to think you got used to all the pretty ladies and the bowing and that you left me to fend for myself.”
“I was already bored and we were barely there two days,” he lied. He stretched his wings and yawned. He wasn’t about to admit how much fun he’d had, not when she still looked so irritated.
“How did they not see you just then?” she asked, eyeing his broad wings.
“They told me to leave, Kara. Gurien assigned me to look over you. They aren’t all bad.”
“The entire experience was still annoying.”
“They weren’t altogether fond of you, either. You’ll have to work on that.”
She grumbled, and he decided not to press the issue. Instead, he looked out over the cliff and eyed a waterfall at the edge of his vision. Behind it was the lichgate they needed to take them to the Villing Caves.
“How do you like the view from up here?” he asked.
“I’m not a fan of heights, actually.”
“Excellent! Because we have to go that way.” He laughed, pointing over the steep drop. “The only lichgate around here that will take us to the Villing Caves is behind that waterfall in the distance.”
“I don’t even see a waterfall.”
“Exactly,” he muttered, walking closer. “It will be a trek, so let me change and then we can go.”
He trudged into the tree line and pulled out the fresh change of Lossian clothes from the pack he’d hidden behind a tree trunk. He paused over his Hillsidian tunic and compared it with the thin pair of trousers from a village just outside of Losse called Atao.
Fact was he missed his Hillsidian form, even with the added power of the Kirelm body. It would be safest to travel as his Hillside self anyway, since he was most comfortable with it, so he switched without bothering to take off the
Kirelm uniform. It would be too big for him once he changed.
His muscles tingled and numbed, his body shrinking as he focused on the olive skin tone that he’d grown so fond of over the years. The stretching ended almost as soon as it began, and he looked down to see his familiar tanned hands. He threw on his Hillsidian clothes and stuffed the Kirelm and Lossian fabric into his pack before returning to Kara. She lounged on the griffin’s back in the shade of a tree, waiting for him.
“That’s better.” She smiled and offered her hand to help him up.
He grabbed her hand, a spark igniting in his fingers at her soft touch. Ignoring it, he hauled himself into the seat behind her without pulling on her at all.