Gift of Griffins
Page 15
The kid turned sharply on his heel, face still red though now for a different reason. The older woman with the scarred face and the steel-gray hair hovering just outside the door was probably the Barrack Leader in question.
As if the young soldier’s departure had pulled a cork out of him, the Jade Cohort Leader erupted. “What have you to say for yourself, Cursar? By the Mother, man! You were right there; you should have prevented it!”
“And what do you suggest the young man should have done, Cohort Leader?”
Again, Tel fought to stifle a grin. You often heard a tone like that from a Company Commander speaking to those under her, occasionally from a Cohort Leader, rarely from a Faro. But rumor had it that the Nast family worked themselves up through the ranks. Impossible as it might seem, Tonia Nast, Faro of Panthers, had at one time been a Company Commander.
“My Faro, if he had called for archers while the beast was still in range—”
“They could have killed the Talent just as easily as the griffin which took her. This way, if what Third Officer Cursar tells me is true, we can at least know that she is safe.” Under Tonia Nast’s words ran the unspoken awareness that the Talent in question was the Faro’s own sister. If she wasn’t concerned, her tone said, no one else needed to be. The Faro looked back to him. “We do know this, Third Officer?”
“Yes, Faro.” Since he was a Bear, not a Panther, he didn’t call her “my Faro.”
“Can you speculate as to where the griffin might be taking her?”
“I can’t know for sure, Faro, but I’d imagine he’s taking her on to the allies we told you of.”
“In other words, completing your assignment.”
It wasn’t a question, so Tel didn’t answer her.
“Very well, Third Officer. The officer of the day will assign you a billet until I receive an answer from Juristand. I will use you to convey that answer to your Faro.”
“Excuse me, Faro? The Bear Wing is still severely under count. I’m needed there.”
Tonia Nast examined him with a blank expression. “Very well,” she said finally. “You are dismissed. You may return to your Faro with my compliments and good wishes as soon as I’ve written them down.”
Tonia Nast stopped looking at him, and Tel was out of the room before she could change her mind. If he couldn’t follow Kerida and the griffin, he could at least go back to the Mines and the Bear Wing, where he belonged.
* * *
Ker felt she’d always been on the griffin’s back, the wind had always been blowing through her hair, and all her life before was just a dream. We definitely couldn’t have walked this far. The few times they’d landed to allow Weimerk to hunt felt like something she’d read in a story. They’d always been flying, and she’d always been clinging to the griffin’s back. At least she wasn’t cold, and her nausea had disappeared, now that she had her own flame color. Ker gave her head a shake and rolled her shoulders as best she could, considering she couldn’t let go of her grip on Weimerk. She’d been tightening and releasing all her muscles periodically, but she could already feel the stiffness that waited for her once they landed again.
If they landed again.
A change in the angle of their flight woke her from thoughts of Tel whistling while he was trudging along a road. She woke completely to find his plaque clutched tightly in her fist, Weimerk climbing and showing no signs of leveling off to fly through a pass, as he’d done so many times before. Slowly, the sound of the air rushing past them faded, and Ker’s head felt somehow larger.
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Obediently, Ker swallowed. With a barely felt pop! the sound of the rushing air returned, and her head felt normal. She kept swallowing as they climbed higher and higher still, until—what felt like hours later—Weimerk leveled off.
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Ker raised her head and blinked into the wind. All around them were sky-piercing peaks: black, gray, white, blinding where sun hit snow. These mountains made the Serpents Teeth look like foothills, and they continued as far as the eye could see.
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Shaking her head, Ker shut her eyes. She should have known Weimerk meant her to Flash. Paraste. Instantly, the sharp grays and whites and blacks of the mountains ahead of them were replaced by vibrant auroras of colors, hundreds of them, rising from the peaks in front of them, impossibly high, and rippling as though following patterns of air and the movement of winds she couldn’t see. Her breath caught in her throat, and tears which had nothing to do with the wind sprang into her eyes.
Waves of color reached out to them as they flew nearer. Weimerk gave one of his great screams, forcing Ker to press her head tightly against his neck feathers as she tried to muffle the sound. Her ears rang until she couldn’t hear the wind rushing by.
Then came other calls, and Weimerk abruptly rose higher still, like a kitten bouncing into the air, ecstatic that he was finally being answered by his own kind. But where were they? All Ker could see were the curtains of color they swam through, as though someone had emptied the contents of dye vats into tumbling river rapids.
Weimerk stopped moving forward. His wings folded and, quivering with excitement, he looked around alertly, like a bird watching for prey.
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Ker blinked and looked around. Still nothing but waves of color. What were they standing on? She shivered and took a deep steadying breath.
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Dismount onto what? Ker examined their surroundings more carefully. Weimerk did seem to be standing on a wave of color, but it moved and shifted enough to make her cross-eyed. What was holding him up? And would it hold her up as well? Weimerk certainly seemed to think so.
Before she could lose her nerve, Ker shifted her grip on Weimerk’s feathers and slid carefully between his body and his right wing. Her toes touched something firm, and Weimerk shifted his wing to free her. Ker turned around, and the breath stopped in her throat. The auroras were gone, and in their place were the rocks and trees and greenery of a mountain valley, vaulted over with white fluffy clouds in an azure sky. There were ash trees and birches, with a few scattered pines. There were birds in the trees and bees circling the wildflowers growing out of the grass. All that was missing were goats, and maybe a goatherd.
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Looking in the direction Weimerk was pointing his beak, Ker clenched her hands to fists, and took a step back. What she’d taken fo
r a huge boulder, she saw now as the statue of a crouching griffin—until she saw the tail whipping back and forth. I hope she didn’t see all the eye-rolling. Ker lifted her chin and straightened her spine.
Weimerk had been a hatchling when they found him, and he’d grown quickly to the size he wanted to be, that is, large enough to carry Ker on his back. Ker now realized she’d assumed he’d reached his adult size. Apparently adult, fully grown griffins were much larger. Several times larger, if she was any judge. Too large, perhaps, to carry a human in comfort.
Size was almost the only difference between them, however. The griffin in front of them had the same gold fur, the same rainbow iridescence to her wings, and the feathers on her head. And how do I know she’s a she? Her beak shone with the same shade of bright copper. With their eagle heads, griffins had little or no expression on their faces, but Ker had learned to read Weimerk’s feelings from the tilt of his head, the movement of his wings, and whether he used one eye or both. Going by those cues, the griffin watching her showed disapproval, though the half-cocked set of her wings looked a bit like surprise.
Weimerk raised himself slightly, his tail lashing back and forth, like a kitten eager to play. The female watching them tilted her head to one side, and suddenly the valley rang with an immense sound as if a gong the size of the valley itself had been struck by an enormous hammer. It sounded just once, and while the ground stayed steady, the air shimmered, as if with the passage of the sound. All of a sudden, there were griffins everywhere. Some Ker could see clearly, their shapes and the hues of their wings detailed and clear. Those that were standing or sitting farther off, however, were blurry, as if she saw them through water.
Or through waves of color, she thought. Just because she no longer saw them didn’t mean they weren’t there. No longer Flashing, Ker couldn’t see the auras, though she thought she could feel them in the space around her, as if they brushed against her. Tinkling sounds, like delicate silver wind chimes in the distance. Ker felt her spirits rise and knew that she was smiling. There wouldn’t be any difficulty now, not with all these griffins to help them.
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Weimerk’s answer was wordless, just a wave of joy and curiosity and fear and more joy.
“I am Deilih. I shall speak for all.” Ker no longer heard the griffin’s voice in her head, but through her ears. Deilih’s voice had the same resonance and sense of space, but didn’t sound like Weimerk’s, either when he spoke aloud or mind to mind. Ker wasn’t sure how she’d describe the difference. In fact, there was no way to tell that Deilih was the griffin in front of them. Any of the griffins she could see, or even one she couldn’t, might be the one speaking.
“Talent, what brings you to Griffinhome?”
Of course, Weimerk didn’t need a reason to come to what was, after all, his home, though he’d never seen it before. Ker squared her shoulders and coughed into her hand. Colors shot through the edge of her vision, and in that moment the ghostly images of griffins lined the hills around her. Every muscle ached from holding on to Weimerk; the skin on her face felt tight and dry. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into a bed and sleep on something that didn’t move—and that she didn’t have to cling to.
“I’m Kerida Nast, Talent of the Halls of Law. I’m here on behalf of the Feelers of the Mines and Tunnels, and the Springs and Pools, and the Luqs of Farama.” Ker paused, but there was no acknowledgment. “We believe the time of the Prophecy has come,” she continued. Still no reaction from the gathered griffins. “We’ve seen at least two of the Signs of the Prophecy. Farama has been invaded by the Halians, who are horsemen from across the sea, and we . . .” Here she hesitated. “We found Weimerk, and the Talents and Feelers are getting together. But we need help dealing with the Halian mages, the Shekayrin. We’ve seen how at least one of them reacted to Weimerk, and we think that with your help, we could persuade them to—” What was the military phrase? “Cease hostilities. They would listen to you, about the Prophecy I mean, and if you help us, well, then the Prophecy would, uh, come to pass. With your help.” Ker could feel heat spreading over her face. This had all sounded so much better in her head.
“You are not the one the Prophecy calls for.”
Ker blinked. “I never said I was. I’m part of the Second Sign, I’m the one who speaks to griffins,” she told them. “I’m speaking to you now and asking for your help.”
“You did not need our help to destroy the world that was.”
That sounded a little petty to Ker. “But the Prophecy—”
“The Prophecy is not a book already written, but one that is writing itself even as we speak. You Gifted have the ending in your hands, to make or unmake the world that is so important to you. We griffins were driven from our place of blood and bone by the warring of the Gifted. We could no longer teach those who took our Gifts and used our lessons as permission to turn on one another.”
Ker couldn’t pretend that she didn’t know what Deilih meant. She knew that Talents had once turned on Feelers, having them outlawed, and stamping out all official mention of them, making them into half-legendary bogeymen for children. And long before that event, she’d been told Talents and Feelers together had cast out the mages. “But there are so many UnGifted! What about them?”
“They are not our concern. Only those who received our Gifts are of importance to us. Until they once again use those Gifts as we intended, the Prophecy is not fulfilled, and we shall remain in Griffinhome.”
The buzzing was back in Ker’s head. She couldn’t speak, the words choking her as they tried to get out of her mouth. Finally, she clenched her teeth; she couldn’t let her disappointment rise up and overwhelm her. She took several deep breaths and looked carefully around her, doing the best she could to hold back her anger and shock. She’d thought she’d have to plead her case, and she didn’t think they’d be her friends right away. But she certainly hadn’t expected them to reject her request out of hand. She never thought they wouldn’t care at all.
“Yes, well.” She cleared her throat and swallowed. “I won’t thank you for more than your time, since that’s all you’re giving me,” she said. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take myself and my Gifts back to my friends and do what I can to keep them alive long enough for the Prophesied One to come.”
“It is not yet determined that you will return.”
Cold touched the back of her neck. Weimerk shook his head and partially opened his wings. The claws on all four feet were showing.
“You claim to be the Second Sign. What proof can you offer us?”
Proof? Surely the griffins could recognize their own Sign? “I’m speaking to you, aren’t I? Isn’t that what the Second Sign is all about? ‘Hear the runner in the darkness, eyes of color and light; Speaks to the wings of the sky; Speaks to griffins,’” she recited. “That was me, the runner in the darkness, and this is me now.”
“Did you speak to Weimerk, or did he speak to you? If he awakened your ability, then you are not the Second Sign.”
“She awakened me,” Weimerk said. “I was lost and crying. I was first out of the egg. But. I was alone. There. Was. No. Parent. To. Wake. My. Mind.”
From the way he was mixing his intonations, Ker could tell he was upset. Griffins always laid three eggs, but the first one out always ate the other two. That’s why Weimerk had been alone.
Deilih inclined her head in a slow nod, acknowledging Weimerk’s implied criticism. “Your parents were lost to us. With them gone, there was no way for us to find the nest they had left. No way to find you until you hatched, and we could sense your presence.”
Ker’s eyebrows crawled upward as realization dawned. Each set of parent griffins must have laid their nests in a spot known only to them. If Weimerk’s parents had disappeared, then knowledge of his location would have disappeared with them.
“You would not have been abandoned but f
or their loss.”
“I hatched. When. Kerida. Entered. The. Serpents. Teeth.”
“But—no, nothing.” Ker had entered the mine less than a day before she and Tel were found by the Feelers. Weimerk had already hatched. Was he lying to these others? Or . . . technically, she and Tel had been in the mines longer. The entrance they’d used as a cave while Tel’s wound got better, that was part of the mines.
“I. Wandered. Lost. And. Alone. Until Kerida found me and woke me. When I became myself, I knew immediately that together we were the Second. Sign.” Weimerk seemed to be calming down.
Griffins had a kind of racial memory they could access only when they were awakened, usually by one of their parents. The memory consisted of everything that griffins knew up to the time of the last Great Gathering. In Weimerk’s case, that included the creation of the Prophecy. There hadn’t been a Great Gathering since then.
After a long period of silence, Deilih spoke. “We accept that the Talent awakened you. Has there been any other manifestation of her continuing importance to the Prophecy?”
Ker had to shut her eyes. What, for the Mother’s sake, could they possibly want from her? She rubbed her face with her hands and groaned aloud.
“Can you at least tell me what kind of proof I need?” The griffin nearest them, whether it was really Deilih or not, didn’t respond, other than the slow blinking of her enormous eyes. None of the other griffins were close enough for her to look directly at them. Ker turned to Weimerk, but at first got no more answer than the same slow blinking. Were they communicating among themselves?
Finally, Weimerk turned his eye toward her. “You know what you must do.”
Pulling in a deep breath preparatory to speaking her mind as loudly as possible, in the last moment Ker did nothing more than let the breath out through her nose and thrust her hands into the wide sleeves of her overtunic, wrapping her arms around herself. The sun on her face was warm, but nevertheless Ker felt chilled inside. What would happen to her if she couldn’t come up with the proof Weimerk said she had? Why wasn’t being the Second Sign enough?