Rapunzel and the Griffin Prince

by Savage, Vivienne

  “I’ll leave a contingent of men in Verais but take the bulk of the army back to Floren. We’ll have the city defenses in place before the queen’s black army arrives. We’ll hold them off until you return, Princess,” Milo said.

  Joaidane extended a hand, revealing two glowing stones like molten lava shaped into a flickering sphere resting on his palm. “Take these for your journey. They’re called ifrit stones and produce great quantities of heat when activated with a brisk rub. It’s a simple enchantment, but the energy is finite. Use them with care.”

  Rapunzel and Muir each took one. She rolled it between her palms, and then a comfortable heat flared from within and cast an orange light over her face. “This feels amazing.”

  “That it does. May it provide light in the darkness and comfort during your adventure. Be safe. I will help here however I may,” Joaidane said. “The queen won’t be expecting me, so I plan to use that to my advantage.”

  “Then we should be off.” Muir hefted the heavier bag onto his shoulders to join the satchel he already carried without complaint and shifted, leaving Rapunzel to marvel at the beauty of it. How had she not noticed before that things he carried with him magically vanished? Or, rather, she had noticed but didn’t give it much thought.

  He crouched down for her to climb up on his back. She’d become accustomed to riding without a saddle and settled into the perfect spot between his shoulders. She looked to the people gathered around them, committed their faces to her memory, and prayed they found what they needed in time.

  “Let’s go.”

  Muir snapped out his wings and took off, leaving the ground far below them.

  Chapter

  Their flight toward the northern tip of Eisland took the better part of the day. They made camp when darkness fell that evening under the shelter of a tent, then resumed their flight in the morning.

  Rapunzel directed Muir as best she could, but the truth was, she had never made the journey to Eisland’s tallest peak.

  “There!” she called out when the clouds broke. “Eisen’s Might. When I was a little girl, Father would force us to attend the temple services with him each Endsday, and the priests always spoke of these mountains,” she said, thinking back to those days of her youth when her father was truly her father and he’d been a loving, kind man. A man of the temples who loved others as much as he loved himself. She blinked away the sudden moisture in her eyes.

  Gods, she missed her father. How could she ever have believed he could change?

  “What did the priests say?” Muir asked.

  “Eisen is the lord of the soil, plains, and harvests, the god for which Eisland is named. Most of our tales relate to his love for Siel, the sky goddess. He loved her for years and watched her night and day, knowing distance would always force them apart. Longing to meet her, he stretched for the sky as far as he could but never could reach her domain.”

  Muir was silent for a while. “And was this love unrequited?”

  “No. She wept for him, but as she was the sky, it was her place to be above us. When her tears fell from the heavens, one struck the mountain and became the Northern Lights.”

  “A sad but beautiful tale, I suppose. If her tears are what we need, does that mean I should aim for the topmost peak?”

  “Yes. There should be a small plateau, according to the stories.”

  “Hold on tight, the winds are picking up.”

  The wind beat at them and sliced through her cloak despite the layers of woolen leggings and clothing beneath. She turned her face into the fluffy feathers at the base of Muir’s neck, but it did no good. Even he was frigid. Despite her mastery of the cold, there was nothing she could do, the harsh winds practically supernatural in power, like the mountain had a will of its own, its own soul rising up to push them away each time he swooped in near.

  “I can’t break through this current,” Muir said. “No matter how I approach, a wind arises to push me off course.”

  “Don’t try it then. Land and we’ll find another way up.”

  Muir banked to the left and coasted down to the base of the mountain. Dozens, if not hundreds of colorful ribbons wound around tree trunks framing the beginning of the path. Rapunzel looked around but saw no one. The charred remains of a recent but abandoned campfire were all she saw. She slid from his back and immediately missed his warmth.

  “At least the way seems to be marked,” Muir muttered. His warm breath fogged the air in front of his beak. He shuffled his wings and moved forward down the snow-dusted path. Ice and snow crunched beneath his hind paws, taloned forelegs, making her wonder about the trail they would leave behind.

  “Yes. Its traditional for those starting the path to add a ribbon with the rest. You add another with each checkpoint you meet at the higher summits.” Rapunzel dipped her head and frowned. “I didn’t bring any. I’d forgotten about the custom.”

  “Is there something else we can leave?”

  “Perhaps….” She reached up and plucked three silver hairs from her head. Muir made a quiet sound, and then he reached beneath his left wing with his beak, coming away with a small, downy feather no larger than her hand. She took his offering, twined her hairs around the shaft, and tied them around the trunk of a slender birch.

  Once she was astride Muir’s back again, his four-legged stride made swift progress up the winding path. A gentle snowfall had begun, and tiny white flakes settled on his auburn head.

  “If I’d known how far we’d have to climb before setting out, I would have prepared us better for it. Even at this pace, it’s bound to take us days to reach the top. Your mountain is enormous.”

  “It is the tallest mountain in all of Eisland.”

  “Wait until you see my home, lass. Some of our mountains would make this look like a hill.”

  “But not where you live.”

  “No. Those peaks are too cold even for a griffin. There were once snow lynxes there, one of our clans who went into hiding during the great plagues of the Scourge, but I doubt they even realize the war is over, if they’ve survived. There’s been far too much work to spare the hands needed to find them.”

  “Perhaps one day we could go look for them together.”

  His stride faltered for a brief moment. “I would like that.”

  Silence fell over them for a time as Muir picked his way up the mountain, demonstrating his feline agility over the snowy steps carved out of the rock. They passed an altar dedicated to Eisen, god of the earth and all things green, though there were no tokens on the stone and the candles had burned away to nothing.

  “I wish I’d brought an offering.” She sighed, inwardly disappointed with herself. If she’d been less focused on the palace and her brother—or even her stomach—she might have thought to prepare not only for the journey, but for the stops along the way. It felt wrong somehow to pass by the shrine without leaving a token behind.

  Before Muir could gain much distance, she reached her thoughts toward the shrine and molded the pristine snow into a single ice rose, leaving a perfect replica on the altar.

  That would have to be good enough.

  They traveled for a few hours longer until what hints of sunlight there were dipped beyond her sight, though it couldn’t have been far into the afternoon. Were Rapunzel not a magician with an affinity for ice and cold, she might have already lost sensation in her fingers, though she occasionally opened and closed both hands, keenly aware of Muir glancing at her over his shoulder.

  They discovered their second camp as true darkness fell, evidence pilgrims had recently made a safe climb to their place of worship at the top. Like the last camp, it couldn’t have been more than a day old.

  There, Muir raised their tent and they settled for another night, needing each other for warmth as much as protection.

  When morning came, they dined on a few dried sausages while Rapunzel heated water for coffee.

  She didn’t suspect they would make the climb in less than a few days, as most of
the pilgrims who came brought groups prepared for the difficult journey, often hiring guides to lessen the ordeal.

  But she had Muir, and he was worth as much as a dozen men. Onward, they traveled with light bellies after warming with mugs of dark, sweet brew.

  The occasional windbreak allowed Muir to fly to the next highest cliff, but for the most part, he trotted along on the rocky path. They took shelter when needed and rested after steep climbs, sometimes admiring their surroundings or the sighting of a wild animal native to the mountains.

  Rapunzel had never seen one of the ivory mountain rams, excluded from the hunts her brother and father had taken during her youth.

  With his sharp eyes, her husband pointed out sights she would have never noticed on her own. He saw birds roosting among the scattered firs sprouting from the mountain’s many cliffs, and wild ponies with shaggy cream and white coats.

  “I don’t think I’ve said this before, lass, but you’re an expert rider.”

  “That was sudden.”

  “What?”

  “The compliment.”

  He chuckled. She still hadn’t quite grown accustomed to his avian beak making human sounds, but the voice was almost the same. A little lower in pitch, a little rougher, but still her Muir.

  “It only now occurred to me. I’ve not once had to worry you’ll fall off.”

  A hint of white fluttered up ahead, visible through the gentle snowfall and fog billowing around them. Rapunzel gasped, motionless aside from the gentle tug of the soft feathers at the nape of his neck, cautioning him to be still.

  He froze. “What?”

  “Shhh.”

  In the distance, a small white face looked back at them, the fair cheeks surrounded by a spill of ivory hair as white and downy as the pristine snow tumbling in great puffy clouds around them. Then she darted away and was hidden once more.

  “What was that?”

  “A true snow nymph.”

  Muir rustled his wings, an avian approximation of a shrug. “How was I to know you were a princess trapped in a tower? Perhaps you should have cut your hair and used it as a rope to climb down.”

  Rapunzel scowled when he twisted his head to stare at her with one gold eye. “I wasn’t allowed knives or scissors.”

  “A saving grace, I should say. Your hair is lovely. Though it pains me at times that it’s always bound and braided. You have no idea how often I want to say, ‘Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair’ as it shines like starlight when it’s unbound.”

  The compliment soothed her irritation. Then her stomach rumbled. It wasn’t a gentle gurgle, but a loud and boisterous, unladylike churning noise, the type of sound discouraged by her gaggle of etiquette teachers, as if she had any control over her bodily functions.

  “I suppose this is as good a time to stop and rest for a moment, aye? I see an area out of the wind up ahead. We’re between two peaks.”

  “Excellent. I’ve got our lunch with me. Just one second then.” With a touch of her magical senses, Rapunzel swept the snow from a small ledge and formed it into an ice table. She set her pack atop it and rummaged inside, removing a roll of spiced sausage, wafer bread, a single jar of pickles, and a fruit spread. She had no plates, so she rolled a linen napkin out on each side of the table to set their food.

  Muir dropped his haunches on the ground and watched. His tail whisked through the snow, and for the first time, she noticed the little tuft at the end.

  He’s so beautiful.

  It seemed whenever she saw him in griffin form, they were in battle. She admired him now, studying his glossy coat and his golden beak.

  “Are you not going to eat with your hands?” she asked, spreading winterberry jam over a wafer.

  He glanced at her with one eye, which she’d decided was the avian equivalent of raising a brow. Then he deliberately snapped up a sliced sausage from his linen.

  She huffed at him and stopped shy of filling her tummy with heavy meat when there was a scrumptious dessert awaiting them. She let Muir dine on the remnants of her portion then unveiled the chocolate tarts lovingly wrapped in beeswax-coated fabric. When she unfolded it, his eyes lit with glee.

  “They’re best when warm,” she explained, balancing the treat on her left palm while heating it with the ifrit stone. A bit of steam arose from it, and the delicious smell of baked pastry filled the mountain air around them. Once it had softened and she knew the center would be gooey, she offered it to him.

  Muir accepted the tart from her with his left foreclaw and nibbled a corner with his beak, tasting it. She stared at him, never having seen any bird eat with its claws before. The effect was oddly humanizing. And adorable. His eyes had formed half slits with bliss.

  “What?”

  Rapunzel snapped out of it, clearing her throat and looking away while unwrapping the linen from her own tart. Once she licked the crumbs from her fingers and cleared away their mess, she folded her linens and their makeshift tablecloth away into her bag. Then she found a quiet place tucked out of sight to answer nature’s call.

  “Ready to continue on?” she asked upon returning.

  “I’m ready if you’re ready.”

  Further up the mountain, the trail began to narrow and wind through a thickly wooded area requiring her to press against him to avoid branches scratching her cheeks. She tucked her face against the back of his feathered head, torn between warming herself and admiring the towering pines and quaking aspens surrounding them.

  Muir must have felt her shiver, because he paused and canted his head at her, glancing over one shoulder again. “Are you all right?”

  She kissed the side of his beak. “I’m fine. I have to duck some is all. Nothing too bothersome.”

  Eventually the trees thinned out again and vanished entirely on their left side. The path edged around the mountain with a steep slope dropping away to a ravine far below.

  “Hold please.” Rapunzel climbed down when Muir stopped. “The ledge is too tight for you like this. You’re far too large, and it would be safer to take it on foot from here.”

  He grunted and changed forms, although she thought he looked frigid in his human body, and wished she’d warned him to wear trousers. “Nothing I haven’t done before. We used to scale Mount Floraivel with our hands when we were wee lads. Though if our mothers knew, they’d have killed us.”

  “Why? You live in the mountains, don’t you? I’d expect rock climbing to be common.”

  “It’s a long way down for a cub, is all, and every griffin isn’t as well-practiced at changing forms on a whim. A second is all I need, but some require more practice. Then you’ve still got to pull up out of a fall. By then, you can be dashed to bits on the rocks below. A sad way for your mum to find you, but we were cocky and full of ourselves. Thought we were men.”

  “Not the vision I need when we’re preparing to scale a mountain.”

  Muir grinned at her. “Not to worry, as I said, I only need a second these days.”

  After that, the weather changed and became an unforgiving wall of wind bludgeoning their faces, like sheets of miniature ice blades coming at them from above. She didn’t complain, even when the sky opened up with merciless hailstones that pelted their shoulders. If she was cold in her layers, her gloves, leathers and leggings, the frosty wind beneath his kilt had to be nigh intolerable.

  Muir shifted his position. Only the occasional pebble of ice barely touched her afterward. “We need to stop and find shelter now.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. You may have magic, but you’re only human, and I’d be happier if you conserved your strength until we need it. Help me keep an eye out for a good wind break. A hollow. Anything that’ll shield us.”

  “Fine. I thought I saw a hollow that way. We’ll have to backtrack a little, but not by much.” Rapunzel removed her ifrit stone from her bag and warmed her hands with it, soaking in the heat and pale golden-red glow it emitted.

  Bless Joaidane for creating those for their tr
avel into the frozen north. She raised it to her face and basked in the heat, then made her way down the mountain trail again. Muir repositioned himself to the outside of the path, placing himself between her, the wind, and an infinite drop miles down into rocky doom.

  They didn’t have to travel far to find the niche in the rock, although the wind break curved into the mountain and sloped gently downward. Rapunzel slipped through with ease. Muir grunted and struggled to force his broad shoulders and wider frame through the slim gap.

  “Hand me your things. You can make it.”

  “Why couldn’t you be a damned master of stone magic,” he muttered

  “Why couldn’t you be a wolf shifter or something small?”

  Muir eyed her as he removed his weapons belt and passed his satchel through the gap. “The wolves aren’t much smaller, lass. We’re all quite large.”

  She stared at him. Her gaze dropped below his waist.

  Muir scowled. “Your thoughts would go there.”

  “It isn’t my fault the gods blessed you.”

  Eventually, he wiggled inside, twisting one way then the other and working his muscular body between the frigid rocks. She brushed the snow and bits of frost from his shirt once he joined her.

  “Looks like we’re actually inside the mountain,” he said.

  “Astute observation.”

  Muir eyed her again. “I’ve never wanted so much in my life to take a woman over my knee.”

  “Save the promises for once we’ve rescued my brother and kingdom.”

  He grunted and followed her deeper into the cave system until the ground leveled. There, it was merely cold, without the biting wind dispersing the heat from her ifrit stone.

  “Aren’t you going to hold your ifrit stone?”

  Muir shook his head. “No.”

  Rapunzel sighed and moved closer to her husband to share the heat from her ruby. The crimson glow cast from the warm stone brought out the subtle hints of gold in Muir’s hair. She watched for a moment, smiling, suddenly struck by how beautiful he was even when he had to be freezing from stubbornness. “I know you’re strong enough to bear any weather, Muir, but you need not prove it to me anymore.”