Birthright

by Wendy L. Koenig

  “I’ve had the advantage of traveling with you in fairly close proximity, but I don’t think you would be found out with just a passing glance.”

  “Then, I’d like to stay hidden as a boy until we get to the city.”

  He nodded. He was sure there was more to her reason for hiding, but he’d leave it for now.

  Dusk was only getting heavier. If she were going to buy water tomorrow, that meant she had to collect stones and change them to coins without Efar seeing. She pulled on Captain’s reins. “We should stop here for the night.”

  * * * *

  Efar stood for a moment, hands on hips, watching Fiera. While Henry—boy or girl, he’d given up trying to figure it out—had immediately taken to the woods on the eastern side of the road to gather burning material, the girl set about scuffing the cracked edges of the road after she’d cared for the horse. Occasionally, she bent low and studied what she’d found, but other times, she scooped something directly from the ground into her pocket. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him. “What do you have there?”

  She looked up at him with guilt in her olive green eyes. “Rocks.”

  He leaned forward. Did he hear her right? “Rocks?”

  She nodded and returned to her search, her thick blond hair brushing across the tops of her shoulders. “I collect them.” Great clouds of dust rose from her feet to envelope her skinny body in a kind of fog. She didn’t seem to notice, though.

  Efar shook his head. Who in their right mind collected rocks? He liked her, but she was an odd one. Everything about her was other than what he expected: her voice, her decisiveness, her frankness, and now the rocks. She hadn’t failed to surprise him, yet. Henry, however, was another matter. The boy hadn’t spoken a single word to him at all. It was something he vowed to remedy.

  He looked over at the horse, Captain, if he remembered the name right. It stood at the side of the road, licking the bark of a tall oak. Thirst could make an animal do strange things. Most people assumed that bigger horses had more reserves, so they could handle thirst and hunger better. But, that was the exact opposite of the truth. Large horses required more to keep them going.

  He eyed the horse speculatively, noting the hanging head and drooping ears as it ceased its ministrations to the tree and just stood there. It had even refused the handful of oats Fiera had offered it earlier. The animal was in bad shape. He needed water now, not sometime tomorrow from a merchant that may or may not exist.

  Turning back to Fiera, who was intent upon a stone she hefted to feel its weight, Efar made a circle motion with his hand. “I’m going to check around. See where our nearest neighbors are and try to find out if there are any robbers lurking about.”

  She didn’t even look at him, merely nodded and waved her hand, her attention returning to the ground at her feet as the rock in her hand disappeared into her pocket. The dust cloud began again. Very odd girl, indeed.

  Efar slipped into the skeleton forest on the western side of the road, opposite the direction Henry had taken. Once he found a thick copse of close-knit, though bare, shrubs, he stopped. Looking around, Efar decided he was alone. Though nakedness was a way of life for shifters, people who weren’t used to it often had problems. He undressed and reached for the griffin. Immediately, a deep ache slowly pulsed in his bones throughout his whole body. His chest widened and deepened, pushing his thickening arms toward the ground. His shoulder blades became heavy with gigantic wings. His face stretched into an eagle’s beak and eyes. From his waist down, he changed into a lion, keeping it slow, so it didn't hurt. The whole process took the rest of the daylight and dusk to complete. Change finished, he glanced about for bystanders one more time and then launched into the darkening night, heading straight north as fast as he could. This trip of his had never had anything to do with neighbors or robbers, as he’d told Fiera. It was all about that horse and the water it so desperately needed. He had to get to the merchant before the cart reached the safety of the city. Otherwise, he’d have to raid within the confines of the city walls, against hundreds of armed men.

  Below his outstretched wings, the forest magically filled out with leaves the more north he sped. Nocturnal animals made their debut. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed the green living woods. How could anyone live for a prolonged time in a sterile area like the one behind him?

  After almost forty-five minutes of flying, he saw the massive walls of a large city in the distance, bright within from candle-lit lamps and bold orange street fires. As he closed on it, he spied the merchant cart, water jugs of every shape on its roof, trundling toward the city gates and the stream of people waiting to enter, three armed guards riding alongside. It was only about two hundred yards out from the bridge over the River Dee, immediately in front of the gates. But, it was still too far for the city guards to assist. Though, that would change rapidly if he didn’t get moving. He folded his wings back and dove like an arrow.

  Neither the guards, nor the merchant, expected an attack from above. Efar landed on the wagon, rocking it heavily with the impact of his weight. Most of the smaller jugs were empty, but two large ones near the driver were still full. Before any of the men could understand what they saw, Efar wrapped his giant eagle claws around the handles of the two jugs and snatched them off the cart. Climbing again into the sky with his trophies, he thought he just might get away with his robbery.

  He was slower than he anticipated, however, with the weight of the water. The guards at last loosed their bows, and arrows hurtled toward him. Most missed. One pierced the vessel in his left claw, shattering it. Water and shards rained down on the soldiers. Another arrow struck home, lodging in the meaty part of his left lion’s thigh. The pain of it seared through him, even as he flew out of range.

  He’d gone straight up, facing west, to mislead anyone who might think to search for griffins. This protected his home and family far to the southeast. Once out of sight, hissing from the pain of the arrow point stuck in his leg, he juggled the water vessel to hold it in both claws so as to not unbalance himself. He curved to the south. It took longer to return, due to the extra weight. By the time he reached his destination, it was a good two hours since he’d told Fiera he was leaving. Clouds that had been on the edge of the night sky were now scattered across it.

  He landed awkwardly, holding the earthen water jug tight against his chest to protect it. He let his one good lion’s leg take the brunt of the impact, but he couldn’t help putting some weight on his injured leg, stumbling and hissing again through his griffin’s beak. Setting down the jug, he lifted his wing and turned to inspect his wound. The shaft of the arrow stuck out at a downward angle from his bloodstained lion’s fur, but the head was buried deep in bulging muscle. A steady stream of blood ran down his leg.

  From the left, leaves shuffled lightly and he snapped his attention toward the sound. There stood Henry, staring, not at him, but at the arrow fixed in his leg. The boy glanced at him, meeting his gaze frankly and gestured toward the arrow. Efar nodded. He could only assume the child knew who he was and understood the arrow had to be removed before he changed back to human form. If not taken out, the damage would be catastrophic.

  Henry approached, all hesitancy gone. He dipped under Efar’s outstretched wing and gripped the feathered shaft with both hands. The boy pulled, but the arrowhead stayed firmly imbedded. He carefully placed one foot on the griffin’s big leg, leaned back and pulled with everything he had. Sweat broke out on his face.

  Efar’s vision swam. The searing pain made him understand the arrow had sunk all the way into the bone. He clacked his beak and snaked his neck back and forth. The only thing the griffin wanted was to make the pain stop. Somewhere in his animal brain, he reasoned the boy was the cause. Efar fought his instincts with all the strength of his will to overcome the drive to attack the child beneath his wing.

  Then suddenly the arrow broke free. The boy flew backwards, sprawling on the forest floor. Efar sank to th
e ground, face down, letting the animal hide within him once again and the human reemerge. Lifting his head to inspect his wound, he saw that the gash had remained the size of the arrowhead. That was good, but the blood that coated his leg from thigh to foot worried him. He’d lost a lot.

  Henry scrambled over to him and pushed a wad of leaves against the injury. With his other hand, he fumbled in a hidden pouch at the waistband of his trousers. He pulled out a packet. In one smooth movement, he removed the leaves with one hand and poured the contents of the packet into the wound with the other. Then he replaced the leaves.

  It felt like a burning hot coal had been wedged into Efar’s leg. He moaned, closing his eyes. The griffin once again welled up within him, trying to break free. Then, as suddenly as it began, the pain ceased, leaving him shaking and weak as a newborn.

  * * * *

  Fiera stirred the campfire. Sparks shot into the night sky like seedpods seeking a new home. Like her. Like them all. Even Efar, who claimed to be just traveling, seemed to be looking for…something missing from his life, something to rest in.

  Leaves crunched and sticks popped across the road. Startled, Fiera jerked her head up, ready to run. To her surprise, Efar limped from behind a thick stand of dried up spruces and bare-branched shrubs, leaning heavily on Marie’s shoulder, blood oozing down his pants leg.

  Fiera sprang to her feet and raced to support Efar’s other side. “What happened?”

  “We have water for Captain. There, in the woods behind us.” He jerked his head toward his left shoulder.

  Instinctively, she glanced in the direction he’d indicated, but saw nothing. Returning her attention to him, she asked again, “What happened to you? Where’d you get the water?”

  He gave a grimace. “Well, after I told you I don’t steal, I stole it.”

  They reached the road and hobbled silently across it. It wasn’t until after they carefully lowered Efar to the ground by the fire and he situated himself with his leg outstretched that she spoke again. She crossed her arms and stood in front of him, Marie beside her. “Tell me how you got injured.”

  He glanced at Marie and nodded. Then, he dropped his gaze and began fussing with the position of his leg. Not looking up, he said, “As it happens, I’m a griffin.”

  With his admission, Marie tapped Fiera’s arm. She cupped her hands like a bowl. Fiera nodded absently. Efar was a griffin. She’d heard of those, but they were just myth, weren’t they? Taking up the rope bridle that was really the lard-thickened blanket, she turned her back on the wounded man and fashioned a wide and deep bowl with her magic.

  Snatching the container from her hands, Marie ran into the forest.

  Fiera called to Captain in her mind. Follow Marie. She has water for you. Don’t drink too much, too fast, or you’ll get a belly ache.

  I’ll be careful, he promised. The horse jogged after the girl like a puppy after its master.

  Turning back to Efar, Fiera saw that he was staring after the two, his mouth wide open. She said, “That doesn’t explain how you got injured.”

  He jerked his gaze to her and frowned. “Why doesn’t your brother like me? He doctored me,” he motioned toward his leg with both hands, “but he won’t talk to me.”

  “Answer my question.” She shoved her foot against his bloody leg, satisfied to see him wince as the message drove home.

  “I saw how bad off your horse was. So, after I told you I was checking out the area, I instead shifted to griffin and flew ahead to find water. Spotting your merchant, I dove in and stole a couple large vessels of water. The merchant’s guards shot me with an arrow and destroyed one of the jugs as I flew away. When I landed back here, Henry saw me and doctored my injury. End of story. Your turn. Why doesn’t he like me?”

  “Show me.”

  “That I’m a griffin? Now? I’m injured!”

  She shrugged. She had no doubt he was telling the truth, but she needed to see his honesty with her own two eyes. Especially if she was going to reveal her own secrets.

  “You are a very stubborn girl.” He rubbed his temples. “Fine. Will part of me suffice? I don’t want to aggravate my injury more.”

  At her single quick nod, he dramatically pulled his shirt off over his head. The firelight danced across his skin, getting lost in the rows of muscles below his solid chest. His neatly corded upper arms were bigger than her leg. “It hurts more if I go fast, so be patient.”

  Fiera settled on the ground and stared unblinkingly at him. She didn’t want to miss a thing. After a few moments, she noticed his chest seemed to be growing. The thick rolls of muscles lengthened to wrap around his sides. Nubs from his back showed above his shoulders, and his nose seemed to be bigger. His wrists thickened and his fingers elongated.

  A fine down sprouted across all his skin, even as his nose hooked at the tip into a beak. His fingernails slowly became long dagger-sharp talons. The nubs on his shoulders grew pointed and Fiera stared at them for a few moments before she realized with a start that they were the beginnings of wings.

  She pursed her lips. How many times had she wished for wings, eager to escape the confines of her prison-like home? Her life would have been so different. She wouldn’t have been forced to live in shame for being a witch. It became her parents’ legacy to her, that shame.

  As Efar’s face became more bird-like, his wings stretched to two feet in length. Then four. Then seven. The down on his body aged into feathers.

  Fiera scrambled to her feet again and slowly approached what was now a birdman: bird on top, man on bottom. With only a cursory glance at his bright bird eyes, she reached out her hand and lightly traced her finger the length of one wing, parting her lips, suddenly unable to get enough air. What it must be like to soar above the mundane!

  She walked behind him, noting the thickness of the wing hinge. Placing a hand on either side, she tried to measure it. Each attachment was easily as wide as her waist.

  Firelight bounced and flickered across the flat smoothness of the griffin’s feathers. She stroked her fingers down the length of them: the straight feather shaft, the silky vane, and the strong razor-like edge. She spoke for the first time since Efar had begun his transformation. “They’re so beautiful.”

  Crossing around the tip of the wing, she returned to the front. He glanced at her with his eagle eyes and then looked away, as if embarrassed. It suddenly occurred to her how forward she’d been, touching him. Investigating his body. The heat of a blush burned in her cheeks. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping for the color to leave her face. Opening them again, she said, “Thank you.”

  Captain’s voice exploded into her mind. I knew it! He’s not normal! He’s a monster!

  She spun around to find the horse blowing hard, his nostrils flared wide, eyes wild, and his legs in a constant dance, moving him forward and back, from side to side.

  In a flash of ingenuity, Marie had tied the water jug to his tail, letting him carry half the weight. As he shifted back and forth in fear, she doggedly moved with him, holding tightly to the other handle to keep the water from spilling.

  Fiera rushed to the horse. Captain! Stop! Hold still!

  The horse appeared not to have even heard her. He continued rocking left and right, wanting to attack, yet afraid to come close to the winged beast.

  Stop! She wrapped her arms around her mount’s massive neck. He stopped moving, but beneath his skin, she felt him trembling.

  By the time Marie had the jug untied, Efar had shifted completely back to human and had managed to stand. He walked slowly toward the horse, shirt still off, his hand outstretched in a gesture of friendship.

  That’s all it took. Captain laid his ears flat back against his head and lunged at the man, snapping violently with his big yellow teeth. I’ll protect us! I’ll kill that monster!

  Fiera, who still clung to the horse’s neck, was dragged with him. She shouted at Efar, “
Get back! Can’t you see how frightened he is? What’s wrong with you?”

  Efar opened his eyes wide and stumbled backwards, nearly tripping on their small pile of supplies.

  She called Marie. “Come get Captain. Take him somewhere and see if you can calm him down.”

  She tore off a piece of her shirt, pushed her magic into it and fashioned another bridle. Hanging it on the horse’s head, she said, Captain, this man is not our enemy, no matter what manner of creature he hides. Go with Marie. Have some oats. I’ll get things sorted.

  Still blowing through his flared nostrils, Captain let Marie lead him away, though he danced sideways so as to keep an eye on his new nemesis. Don’t trust him!

  Fiera watched the duo walk down the road long enough to ensure they were going to be all right. With a sigh, she turned back to the man by the fire.

  Chapter 5

  Bartheleme landed in dragon form next to his father’s agent. The clouds obscuring the moon didn’t matter much for his shifter vision, but the fat agent he’d requested seemed to have trouble seeing exactly what was swooping down on him. The man stumbled backward with a gasp of surprise, even though he’d been told of the massive size of this dragon.

  Shifting to human form, Bartheleme took the clothing the other man offered from a trembling hand. By the time he’d dressed, the agent had control of his emotions once more and swept into a low bow. Bartheleme said, “Rise. Do you have any news?”

  Together, they walked toward the requested horses. The fat man shook his head. “My Prince, I had one, at a little burg called Midden, but she disappeared. I feel certain she was spirited away by another I strongly suspect as also witch. I followed their trail, even found where they’d camped for the night. However, the myriad of tracks at a large crossroads made it impossible to tell which way they’d gone.”

  Bartheleme stopped and faced the man. “Why do you think the first was a witch? What indicators did she give?”