by Candace Sams
Upon hearing he was to be judged, his parents had pled with him for days to apologize to the Sorceress for his behavior. James had railed on about the need for conformity and how the safety of the Order as a whole depended upon obedience to her will. Gryph had heard it all before. Obedience had never gained him a thing except contempt from the very people he'd tried, albeit grudgingly, to serve. And he couldn't conform when there were no standards for being a gryphon.
The worst of it was watching his mother sit and silently cry. To her he had apologized. It almost broke his heart, what was left of it, to hear her beg his forgiveness for meddling with his future. He shook the thoughts away and kept walking.
Judgments usually meant beatings or worse. As he approached the bonfire, he couldn't see any sign of Legion, the Whip Master. That meant he was due for the worst. It just didn't matter any more. He stood at the fringe of the crowd, pulled Heather's blue scarf from his leather jerkin and tied it around his left bicep. As members of the Order saw him and word quickly spread that he'd appeared for judgment, the crowd silenced and parted. He heard murmured whispers about the scarf, and it gave Gryphon one last moment of perverse pleasure. Tied as it was, the scarf represented the medieval favor of a woman and would cause gossip and confusion as to who its owner might be.
Before them all, the Sorceress stood on a large stone platform. Flames from the fire reached far overhead and provided an eerie background for her. The wind blew her long silver hair and white robe as she raised her hand and beckoned him forward.
His parents stood to the Sorceress' left, several other hooded figures to her right. Gryphon moved forward, climbed the steps and faced her with his head held high. He could hear his mother crying and was sorry for her sake. He was vaguely aware of his father pulling her close. There had been no other way things could end. He simply didn't belong.
Using her powers over the wind, the Sorceress amplified her voice so that everyone could hear. "Face the crowd, Gryphon O'Connor."
He turned and looked into the faces of those nearest him. Lore looked back and slowly shook his head. There was true regret in the Fairy's eyes. As others moved a little closer to the platform, Gryphon imagined he could see that some of them wore the same expression. Perhaps that was just his subconscious trying to make it easier. His brain's way of making final preparation.
The Sorceress' powers were awesome. She could destroy him with a wave of her hand. He took a deep breath, looked straight ahead and cleared his mind. No matter what anyone thought of him now, he was a warrior, and frost would form at the hottest regions on Earth before he'd show fear. His ancestors had fought alongside King Arthur. Gryphon was determined that his last actions wouldn't shame that history or himself.
Shayla stepped forward and stood beside him. "Have you anything to say, O'Connor?"
He stared straight ahead, kept his mouth shut and let the crowds think what they would. His last thoughts were his own, and they were thousands of miles away with a woman he loved and wouldn't ever see again.
"What I do now is for your own good and that of the Order." She stopped, lifted her eyebrows in an imperial fashion and caught the blue scarf as it fluttered in the Autumn breeze. Then she turned and addressed one of the hooded figures across the platform. "Does this belong to you?"
The figure came forward, walked in front of Gryphon and turned to face him. "Yes, it's mine."
As if it were happening in a dream, Gryphon slowly lowered his gaze from the horizon and stared into her face. "Heather," he mouthed. His voice had deserted him.
James and Gwyneth rushed forward.
"You brought her here to watch our son's judgment? An outsider!" James angrily whispered.
"You'll get her killed," Gwyneth gasped in a low voice.
"Hush, both of you, and step back. This is among Gryphon, this woman and me. And a judgment doesn't necessarily mean punishment."
James reluctantly pulled Gwyneth back.
Heather and Gryphon hadn't heard the exchange. They stared, fixated, at one another.
The crowd began to mill about, and a murmur of voices rose over the confusion on the platform. Shayla turned to them, raised her hands and loudly announced, "This woman claims the right to handfast with The O'Connor." She quickly walked toward Heather, pulled her away from Gryphon and pushed back the hood of her green cape. In the blaze of the fire, everyone could see her face.
"She's lovely" someone said. "Who is she, does anyone know?"
A general commotion began among the Order. Shayla waited and watched.
Still too stunned to react, Gryphon stood and tried to focus. What in the name of Herne is Shayla doing? Some instinctive part of him screamed out that he should get to Heather. Protect her. Another part of his brain was telling him that judgment had been passed, he was in the next life and she was there with him. It made no sense. For the first time in his life, his mind and body just wouldn't connect. It was all like some alternate reality.
"Since O'Connor doesn't seem to have anything to say, I'll challenge him for the girl," a loud voice rang out. A tall man in a black, hooded cape stepped from the back of the crowd. Everyone gasped and backed away.
"Valerian," Shayla acknowledged, "come forward."
He sauntered toward the platform, mounted the steps and bowed before the Sorceress. His gaze drifted toward Heather, moved up and down her slender form appreciatively, then back to Shayla. "I want her."
Heather began to shake. The man was dangerously handsome, but his green eyes held no warmth at all.
"You don't even know her, man. Why do you challenge?" Shayla asked.
His eyes met Heather's. "She's just too damned beautiful to let the gryphon have her."
The sound of a sword being drawn caused the crowd to gasp. The blade of it came within inches of Valerian's chest.
"Back away from her, or you die," Gryphon snarled. He'd finally been propelled forward by the overwhelming need to protect what he saw as his.
Valerian threw back his cape and quickly drew his own sword.
"Not on the platform," Shayla warned, then turned to the crowd, "Clear an area."
The Order moved back.
Gryphon backed the man down the steps of the platform by holding his sword to his chest. The instant Valerian's boots hit the ground, Gryphon was on him with a ferocity he'd never before felt. He swung his blade in a high arc toward the other man's skull.
Valerian raised his to block, then swung low toward Gryphon's chest. The tip of his sword caught Gryph breast high and slashed a long mark through the leather of his jerkin. Steel cut into his flesh.
The wound was minor, but the feel of his own blood being drawn energized Gryphon, and he swung his blade even harder. In accordance with ancient law, it was forbidden for any member of the Order to shape shift when a challenge such as this was made. Gryphon wouldn't have changed whether that rule existed or not. He wanted blood drawn with his own human hands. Years of frustration and anger poured out of him. Over and over he pummeled the man with blows and barely gave him a chance to do anything but block. He was fighting for everything he ever wanted, and no one would stop him.
Heather watched in horror. One of them would die while fighting over her. She would have moved into the fray, but James quickly pulled her back and pushed her into Gwyneth's embrace. The older woman held on to her. Though Heather tried to break away, Gwyn was stronger, and James came to his mate's aid. They wouldn't let her free. Wouldn't let her get to Gryph.
Fighting for his life, Valerian thrust his broadsword toward Gryphon's abdomen. Gryph jumped back, and the other man charged. Valerian hit him in the face with his elbow, and Gryphon fell backwards and to his knees.
Valerian saw it as a way to finish Gryphon off, moved to his rear and swung down toward the kneeling man's head. Gryph blocked the blow by bringing his sword up and parallel to the ground. In a split second, he was on his feet, swung around and sliced his attacker's thigh open.
Valerian dropped his weapon and hi
t the ground. Panting, Gryphon moved over him and placed the blade of his sword to the man's chest. The beaten man raised his hand.
"I yield, O'Connor." He sucked in air as his open wound continued to bleed. "You must want her very badly."
For a moment, Gryphon wasn't sure he'd let it end. That anyone would challenge him for Heather angered him beyond control. He moved the blade across the man's chest and over his heart.
"Stop it, Son. He's yielded." James came quickly down the platform and grasped his son's sword arm. When it appeared that he would be ignored, James placed his hand on Gryphon's shoulder and attempted to pull him away. "Stop, now"
Gryphon turned to the crowd. "Anyone else?" he shouted.
Those nearest to him quickly moved away. Gryph glared at them in contempt and slowly backed away from Valerian. He watched as if in a daze while his father ordered others to take the injured challenger to the castle and have his wound tended. When the elder O'Connor turned to face him, Gryphon stared into his father's face.
"I don't know what in bloody blazes is going on either, Son," James answered Gryphon's silent, expressive plea for an explanation. "Come on."
They mounted the steps to the platform, and Heather rushed forward and threw her arms about him. He dropped his sword to the stone beneath his feet and held her. She tilted her head back and gazed up at him, and he was lost.
"Handfast them quickly before someone else challenges," James pleaded.
"After what your son just did, I don't see that happening." Shayla smirked. "Still, that's what she's here for. Best to get on with it."
She pushed the couple apart, clasped their hands together and held them with one of hers. From her pouch, she drew a long silver ribbon and wrapped it around their joined hands. "Before the Goddess and all creatures, I bind you in one heart, mind, body and soul. Blessed be."
When Gryphon stood, trance-like, and stared at Heather, Shayla impatiently pushed them both toward the steps." Goblins teeth, man!" Shayla groused. "You've got her. You're handfasted. Now, take her away someplace so the rest of us can get on with the Samhain celebration."
Without even glancing at Shayla or his parents, Gryphon took Heather's hand, strode down the steps and into the woods.
SIXTEEN
He walked until they were some distance from the clearing then dropped her hand and stopped. He didn't want to face her. Gryphon was afraid she wouldn't be there, that she was some illusion and this was another of the Sorceress' ways to punish him. And, if she wasn't real, this particular retribution was worse than killing him outright. Shayla had been right when she'd said, 'I'll give you something to worry about.'' If he turned and Heather was gone, he'd go mad.
Heather placed her hand on his back. "Gryph?" she whispered.
He swallowed hard and slowly turned toward the sound of her voice. Moonlight poured over the tiny glen where they stood. She pushed the hood of her robe back, and something deep inside him broke loose. Gryph roughly pulled her into his embrace and held her as tightly as he could. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and nuzzling his cheek with her own. The warmth of her soft flesh told him she was real, and he held on for a very long time. His mind wasn't able to grasp the whys of the situation. She was real, and that was all that mattered.
Finally, Heather pushed herself away far enough to gaze up into his face. "Guess you're wondering what a girl like me is doing in a place like this?"
He began to breathe hard. For the first time in his life, Gryphon actually believed he was going to have what people referred to as an anxiety attack. Words left him as he stupidly tried to get his brain and his vocal chords to connect. His experiences had never left him ready for such a situation.
Heather put her hands on either side of his face and smiled. "I missed you so much. I couldn't wait to see you again."
Gryphon pulled her head against his shoulder, held her again and groped for words. "I don't...why...how..."
She smiled. "That's about as inarticulate as, I've ever heard you." She pushed away and disconnected from the embrace. Gryph was really having a hard time with seeing her in the Shire, and her heart went out to him. Here was a man used to having some control of the situation, and Shayla had pulled a rug right out from under him and the rest of the Order. Later, they'd laugh about this. Right now, it wasn't funny. Not for him. She could only guess at what was going through his mind. Since for the moment he couldn't seem to pull himself together, she'd have to do the talking.
"Shayla brought me here to be with you."
He put a shaking hand to his head and tried to speak again. "You can't...you can't be here. It isn't safe."
"It is now." She nodded in the direction from which they'd come. "Shayla is back there explaining a few things to the rest of the Order. About the rune stones and what happened in New York. "
He grabbed her by the shoulders as his panic finally found a voice. "You aren't one of us, Heather. You can't be here."
"Maybe you'd better sit down," she spoke calmly and pushed him backward. His knees buckled as he came up against the downed trunk of a tree. He sat and looked at her. The dazed expression wasn't like him and she started to worry a little. Now, it was her turn to help him through a crazy situation.
"After you left New York, the Sorceress came to see me and she gave me a choice. I could stay there or come here." She paused, took his hands and slowly continued. "She wants to bring outsiders into the Order. I'm the first, Gryph."
"Why?" He shook his head when the question came out a little too harsh. "I...I mean...why is she doing such a thing, and why now?"
"Simple matter of numbers. In a hundred years, the Order won't be here if you don't bring in some new people. You can't inbreed, and that's what it'll come down to. As to why she's doing this now, I think she finally found someone she could trust to bring in and a way to do it."
"She's using you to see if her crazy plans will work?" His gaze moved around the clearing, and he stood and started to pace. "They'll never accept you. If they won't regard me as one of their own, what in the name of Herne does she think they'll do to you?"
She shrugged. "Nothing."
He abruptly turned. "You're not in New York anymore, or haven't you noticed? Just because Shayla, Sorceress of the Ancients, wants something doesn't mean everyone will abide by her decisions. That's exactly why I've had to go after some of our own people on occasion. What in the name of Danu does she think she's doing? No Sorceress has ever done anything like this." He raised his hands in exasperation and continued to stalk around the glen. "No Sorceress in our history has ever..."
"Gryph?" she tried to interrupt his ranting.
"I've got to get you out of here."
She pulled her arm free when he tried to lead her away. "I was going to save this until later, but I don't think you're going to listen to me until you know everything."
She quickly backed away and pulled off her robe. "I was going to break this to you differently, a little more tactfully. But I just don't see any other way. Shayla's right. You've sometimes got a head like a brick."
The shocked expression he wore prompted her to act fast. Heather knelt on one knee and willed the change. It was much easier now that she had hours of practice behind her. The first time had been hell. It had taken her body a while to get used to the transformation. Now it came as easily as breathing.
Gryphon backed away as he saw the beginnings of the transformation. "NO! Goddess, Heather, what have you done?"
The answer came to him almost immediately. She'd used the damned rune stones, and Shayla had allowed it. He continued to watch as a bright white light haloed Heather's slender form. From within, a shape formed, grew and emerged. He fell to his knees in absolute wonder. She changed into the most enchantingly beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And the stones had, true to legend, transformed her into a creature which reflected the true nature of her soul.
A graceful white gryphon, sizes smaller than his own alter ego, stood proudly before him. In
his other form, he could easily spread one of his own wings and shelter her beneath it. Without pausing, he walked forward and placed his hands upon either side of her noble head. For a long time they stood there. Tears formed in his eyes, and it took a while before he could speak without sobbing uncontrollably. He leaned into her neck, and she brought up one silver claw and gently wrapped it around his shoulder. A hug.
That did it. He plunged his face into the sparkling, opalescent feathers at her neck and openly wept. A small chortling noise issued from her throat, and he stroked one perfectly white leonine shoulder. Her wings glistened like diamonds in the moonlight. Something on the feathers had a sparkling quality. Like Fairy dust. He'd seen his own reflection in mountain lakes and pools. Compared to her, he was like a dark shadow. But she was exquisite. An absolute wonder. No one in the Order would ever look upon her as a monster. But he sensed a great, noble strength. It would have taken those attributes in her character to make her so light and ethereal. She was a complete match to his masculine, dark side. A great calm came over him, and love swept away his doubts.
She gently nudged him back with her silver beak. As soon as he was far enough away, she changed back and slowly looked up from her kneeling position. Heather chewed at her lower lip, waiting for what he'd say or do.
Seeing her worried expression, Gryph's heart went out to her. She wanted acceptance the same way he had. He'd give her more than that. So much more. Swallowing back the remainder of his tears, he held up his head and grabbed her green robe from the ground. He knelt down beside her and wrapped it carefully around her body. "You're shivering," he whispered and pulled her close. "I'll have to make you a larger crane bag so you can carry clothing and..."
"Oh, Gryph," she cried out and threw herself into his embrace.
"Easy now, little one. It's all right," he comforted her and closed his arms around her form. "You didn't know how I'd respond, did you? How could I do anything but love you," he told her as she tearfully snuggled into his chest.
"You're not angry with me for using the stones and changing?"