by Dragon Lance
He found a broad shoulder of the ridge, an open ledge that nevertheless lay in the shadow of an overhanging shelf of rock. From here, he believed, he could see all of the valley below him, but he could not be seen, or attacked, from above.
He settled down to wait. The sun seemed to hang motionless in the sky, mocking him.
He dozed for a while, lulled by the warmth of the sun and perhaps drained by his own tension. When he awoke, it was with abrupt alarm. He thought momentarily that he had entered a bizarre dream.
Blinking and shaking his head, Sithas saw a tiny spot of movement, no more than a speck of darkness against the clear sky. From the great distance, he knew that whatever he saw must be very large indeed. He saw a pair of broad wings supporting a body that seemed to grow with each passing moment. He stared, but could see nothing else beyond this lone scout.
The streamlined bird shape swooped into a low dive, settling toward the ridge across the valley. Even at this great distance, Sithas saw the leonine rear legs descend, supporting the griffon’s weight on the ground while it used its wings to slowly settle its forefeet. He could plainly see the creature’s size and sense its raw, contained power.
Another flying beast hove into view, and then several more, all of them settling beside the first. From this far away, he might have been looking at a flock of blackbirds settling toward a farmer’s field lush with ripening corn. But he knew that each of the griffons was larger than a horse.
The beasts returned to their valley, flying in a great flock and shrieking their delight at the homecoming. They sounded like great eagles, though louder and fiercer than even those proud birds. The flock spread across a mile or more, darkening the sky with their impressive presence.
They settled along the jagged ridge and gathered upon nearby summits, still miles away from Sithas. The many rocky knobs disappeared beneath slowly beating wings and smooth, powerful bodies seeking comfortable perches. For the first time, Sithas became aware of many nests, all along the ridges and slopes of his side of the valley, as dozens of fledglings squawked and squirmed in their nests. So splendidly were they camouflaged that he hadn’t noticed the presence of several within a hundred feet of his vantage point.
Now several of the adults took to the air again, springing into the valley with long, graceful dives, allowing their hind legs to trail out behind them in sleek, streamlined efficiency. As they drew closer, Sithas could see long strips of red meat dangling from their mouths. Birdlike, they would tend to the feeding of their young.
The rest of the flock followed, once again filling the sky with the steady pulse of their wingbeats. They numbered in the hundreds, perhaps half a thousand, though Sithas did not take the time to count. Instead, he knew that he had to act boldly and promptly.
With quick, certain gestures, he unfurled the scroll and took a look at the bizarre, foreign-looking symbols. Gritting his teeth, he stepped boldly outward, to the lip of the precipice, raising the scroll before him. Now he felt totally naked and exposed.
His movement provoked a stunning and instant reaction. The valley rang with a chorus of shrill cries of alarm as the savage griffons spotted him and squalled their challenges. The ones in the lead, those carrying food for the young, immediately dove to the sides, away from the elven interloper. The rest tucked their wings and dove straight toward the Speaker of the Stars.
Terror choked in Sithas’s throat. Never had he faced such a terrible onslaught. The griffons rocketed closer with astonishing speed. Huge talons reached toward him, eager to tear the flesh from his limbs.
He forced himself to look down at the scroll, thinking that his voice would never even be heard in this din!
But he read the words anyway. His voice came from somewhere deep within him, powerful and commanding. The sounds of the old elvish words seemed suddenly like the language he had known all his life. He spoke with great strength, his tone vibrant and compelling, betraying no sign of the fear that threatened to overwhelm him.
“Keerin – silvan!”
At this first phrase, a silence descended so suddenly that the absence of sound struck Sithas almost like a physical force, knocking him off his feet. He sensed that the griffons were still diving, still swooping toward him, but their shrill cries had been silenced by his first words. This enhanced his confidence.
“Thanthal ellish, Quimost.”
The words seemed to flame on the scroll before him, each symbol erupting into life as he read it. He did not dare to look up.
“Hothist kranthas, Karin Than-tanthas!”
The last of the symbols flared and waned, and now the elf looked up, boldly seeking the griffons with his eyes. He would meet his death bravely or he would tame them.
The first thing he saw was the hate-filled visage of a diving griffon. The monstrous creature’s beak gaped, and both the eagle claws of its front legs and the lion talons of its rear limbs reached toward Sithas, ready to tear him asunder.
But then suddenly it veered upward, spreading its broad wings and coming to rest upon the shelf of rock directly before the tall form of Sithas, Speaker of the Stars, scion of the House of Silvanos.
“Come to me, creatures of the sky!” Sithas cried. An awe inspiring sense of power swept over him, and he raised his arms, his hands clenched into fists held skyward.
“Come, my griffons! Answer the call of your master!”
And come to him they did.
The flock, dramatically spellbound, swirled around him and settled toward places of vantage on the towering ridges nearby. One of these approached the elf, creeping along the crest of rock. Sithas saw a slash of white feathers across its brown breast, and his spirits soared in sudden recognition.
“Arcuballis!” he cried as the griffon’s head rose in acknowledgment. The great creature lived and had somehow found a home with this flock of his kin!
The proud griffon sprang to Sithas, rearing before him and spreading his vast wings. The elf saw a gouge along one side of Arcuballis’s head where the giant’s club had cracked him. Sithas was surprised at the joy he felt at the discovery of his brother’s lifelong steed, and that joy, he knew, would pale compared to Kith-Kanan’s own delight.
The others, too, moved toward him – with pride and power, but no longer did they seem to be threatening. Indeed, curiosity seemed to be their dominant trait.
By the gods, he had done it! His quest had succeeded! Because of his elation, the distant war seemed already all but won.
Chapter 18
THAT DAY,
LATE WINTER
The dire wolves attacked suddenly, bursting from the concealment of trees that grew within a hundred feet of the cave mouth. Kith-Kanan and One-Tooth had planned their defense, but nevertheless, the onslaught came with surprising speed.
“There! Hounds come!” shouted the giant, first to see the huge, shaggy brutes.
Kith-Kanan seized his bow and pulled himself to his feet, cursing the stiffness that still impaired the use of his leg.
The largest of the dire wolves led the charge. A nightmarish brute, with murderous yellow eyes and a great, bristling mane of black fur, the beast sprinted toward the cave, while others of its pack followed in its wake. It snarled, curling its black, drooling lips to reveal teeth as long as Kith’s fingers.
The dire wolves had the same narrow muzzles, alert, pointed ears, and fur-coated bodies and tails of normal wolves. However, they were much larger than their more common cousins, and of far more fearsome disposition. A dozen erupted from the trees in the first wave, and Kith saw more of the dim gray shapes lurking in the woods beyond.
The elf propped himself up against a wall. With mechanical precision, he launched an arrow, nocked another, and fired again. He released a dizzying barrage of missiles at the loping canines. The razor-sharp steel of the arrowheads cut through fur and sinew, gouging deep wounds into the bristling canines, but even the bloodiest cuts seemed only to enrage the formidable creatures.
One-Tooth lumbered forward, his
club raised. The hill giant grunted and swung, but his target skipped to one side. Whirling, the dire wolf reached with hungry fangs for the giant’s unprotected calf, but One-Tooth leaped away with surprising quickness. Instead of lunging after the giant, the monster darted toward Kith-Kanan as a snarling trio of its fellow wolves took up the assault on the hill giant.
The elf smoothly raised his bow and let fly another arrow. Though the missile scored a bloody gash on the beast’s flank it didn’t seem to appreciably affect its charge. One-Tooth whirled in a circle, clearing the menacing forms away from himself, and then swung desperately, knocking the rear legs of one large monster to the side. The wolf crashed to the ground and then sprang away.
The wolves began to circle One-Tooth. Kith-Kanan shot at yet another wolf, and another, dropping each with arrows to the throat. A wolf turned from the giant, loping toward the elf, and Kith brought it down – but not before driving three arrows into its chest, and even then the beast didn’t stop until it had practically reached him.
Once again they came in a rush, a nightmarish image of snarling lips, glistening fangs, and gleaming, hate-filled eyes. The elf shot his arrows one after the other, scarcely noting the effect of one before the next was nocked.
The giant bashed at the shaggy beasts, while they in turn tore at his legs, ripping gory wounds with their fangs.
The packed snow around the cave mouth was covered with gray bodies, and great patches of it were stained crimson by the spilled blood of the slain wolves. One-Tooth stumbled, nearly going down amid the viciously snarling attackers. A wolf leaped for the giant’s neck, but the elven archer killed it in midair with a single arrow to the heart.
Then Kith-Kanan reached for another arrow and realized he had used them all. Grimly drawing his sword, he pushed himself away from the wall and limped toward the beleaguered giant. He felt terribly vulnerable without the rock wall behind him, but he couldn’t leave the courageous hill giant to die by himself.
Then suddenly, before Kith reached the melee, the wolves sprang away from the giant and darted back to the shelter of the trees, leaving a dozen of their number behind, dead.
“Where go hounds?” demanded the hill giant, shaking his fist after the wolves.
“I don’t know,” admitted the elf. “I don’t think I scared them away.”
“Good fight!” One-Tooth beamed at Kith-Kanan, wiping a trunk-like wrist below his running nose. “Big hounds mean, too!”
“Not so mean as we are, my friend,” Kith noted, still puzzled by the sudden retreat of the wolves just when their victory had seemed assured.
Kith-Kanan was relieved to see that One-Tooth’s wounds, while bloody, were not deep. He showed the giant how to clean them with snow, meanwhile keeping his eyes nervously on the surrounding pines.
He heard the disturbance in the air before One-Tooth did, but both of them instinctively looked up at the sky. They saw them coming from the east – a horizon full of great soaring shapes, with proudly spread wings and long, powerful bodies.
“The griffons!” Kith cried, whooping with glee. The giant stared at him as if he had lost his mind while he danced about the clearing, waving and shouting.
The great flock settled across the valley floor, squawking and growling over the best perches. Sithas came to earth, riding one of the griffons, and Kith-Kanan recognized his mount immediately.
“Arcuballis! Sithas!”
His brother, equally elated, leaped to the ground. The twins embraced, too full of emotion for words.
“Big lion-bird,” grunted One-Tooth, eyeing Arcuballis carefully. “Rock-nose bring home.”
“Bring home – to your village?” asked Kith.
“Yup. Lion-bird hurt. Rock-nose feed, him fly away.”
“The giants must have taken him with them that night they first attacked us,” Kith-Kanan guessed. “They nursed him back to health.”
“And then he escaped, and found the flock in the wild. He was with them when I finally discovered their nests,” Sithas concluded.
Sithas related the tale of his search and the discovery of the flock. “I left the nestlings and several dozen females who had been feeding them in the valley.
The rest came with me.”
“There are hundreds,” observed Kith-Kanan, amazed.
“More than four hundred, I think, though I haven’t made an exact count.”
“And the spell? It worked like it was supposed to?”
“I thought they were going to tear me apart. My hands were shaking so much I could hardly hold the scroll,” Sithas exaggerated. “I read the incantation, and the words seemed to flame off the page. I had just finished the spell when the first one attacked.”
“And then what?”
“He just landed in front of me, as if he was waiting for instructions. They all settled down. That’s when I saw Arcuballis. When I mounted him and he took to the air, the others followed.”
“By the gods! Let’s see the humans try to stand against us now!” Kith-Kanan practically crowed his excitement.
“How have you fared? Not without some trouble, I see.” Sithas indicated the pile of dead wolves, and Kith told him about the attack.
“They must have heard you coming,” Kith speculated.
“Let’s get back to the city. A whole winter has passed!” Sithas urged.
Kith turned toward the cave, suddenly spotting One-Tooth. The giant had observed – at first with interest, but then with ill-concealed concern – the exchange between the brothers.
It surprised the elf to realize the depth of the bond that had developed between them.
“Three-Legs fly away?” One-Tooth looked at Kith, frowning quizzically.
Kith didn’t try to explain. Instead, he clasped one of the giant’s big hands in both of his own. “I’ll miss you,” he said quietly. “You saved my life today – and I’m grateful to have had your friendship and protection!”
“Good-bye, friend,” said the giant sadly.
Then it was time for the elves to mount the griffons and to turn their thoughts toward the future … toward home.
Part III
WINDRIDERS
Chapter 19
EARLY SPRING,
YEAR OF THE BEAR,
(2213 PC)
The forestlands of Silvanost stretched below like a shaggy green carpet, extending to the far horizons and beyond. Huge winged shadows flickered across the ground, marking the path of the griffons. The creatures flew in great V-shaped wedges, several dozen griffons in each wedge. These formations spread across more than a mile.
Kith-Kanan and Sithas rode the first two of the mighty beasts, flying side by side toward their home. The forest had stretched below them for two days, but now, in the far distance, a faint glimmer of ivory light appeared. They soared faster than the wind, and swiftly that speck became identifiable as the Tower of the Stars. Soon the lesser towers of Silvanost came into view, jutting above the treetops like a field of sharp spires.
As they left the wilderness behind, Kith-Kanan thought fondly of the giant they had grown to know. One-Tooth had waved to them from the snow-filled valley until the fliers had vanished from sight. Kith-Kanan still remembered his one tusklike tooth bobbing up and down in a forlorn gesture of farewell.
They followed the River Thon-Thalas toward the island that held the elven capital. The griffons streamed into a long line behind them, and several of them uttered squawks of anticipation as they descended. Five hundred feet over the river, they raced southward, and soon the whole city sprawled below them.
The creatures shrieked and squalled, alarming the good citizens of Silvanost so much that, for several minutes, there existed a state of general panic, during which time most elves assumed that the war had come home to roost via some arcane and potent human ensorcelment.
Only when the two blond-haired elves were spotted did the panic turn to curiosity and wonder. And by the time Sithas and Kith-Kanan had circled the palace grounds and then led their cha
rges in a gradual downward spiral toward the Gardens of Astarin, the word had spread. The emotions of the Silvanesti elves exploded into a spontaneous outpouring of joy.
Nirakina was the first to meet the twins as the great creatures settled to the ground. Their mother’s eyes flowed with tears, and at first she could not speak. She took turns kissing each of them and then holding them at arms’ length, as if making sure that they were alive and fit.
Beyond her, Sithas saw Tamanier Ambrodel, and his spirit was buoyed even higher. Lord Ambrodel had returned from his secret mission to Thorbardin.
Loyally, he had stayed discreet about what he had learned. Now he might have decisive news about a dwarven alliance in the elven war.
“Welcome home, Your Highness,” Ambrodel said sincerely as Sithas clasped the lord chamberlain’s shoulders.
“It’s good to see you here to greet me! We will talk as soon as I can break away.” Ambrodel nodded, the elf’s narrow face reflecting private delight.
Meanwhile, the griffons continued to descend into the gardens, and across the gaming fields, and even into many of the nearby vegetable plots. They shrieked and growled, and the good citizens of the city gave them wide berth. Nevertheless, each griffon remained well behaved once it landed, moving only to preen its feathers or to settle weary wings and legs. When they had all landed, they squatted comfortably on the ground and took little note of the intense excitement surrounding them.
Kith-Kanan, with a barely noticeable limp, took his mother’s arm as Hermathya and a dozen courtiers emerged from the Hall of Audience. Lord Quimant walked, with a quick stride, at their head.
“Excellency!” he cried in delight, racing forward to warmly embrace the Speaker of the Stars.
Hermathya approached a good deal more slowly, greeting her husband with a formal kiss. Her greeting was cool, though her relief was obvious even through her pretense of annoyance.
“My son!” Sithas said excitedly. “Where is Vanesti?”