Windbreak: Gryphon Riders Book Three (Gryphon Riders Trilogy 3)

by Derek Alan Siddoway

  Eva watched him stride off into the night and, for the thousandth time, wished more than anything she could go with him.

  Chapter Nine

  Although the coming of the Smelterborn had been followed all the way by gryphon rider scouts, their actual arrival sent shockwaves through the Talon. Nervous mutters spread like a camp disease from one soldier to another until the entire army seemed to thrum with anxiety.

  Eva negotiated with her uncles to allow her to observe the beginning of battle from afar, provided she left without question at their command. She agreed but didn’t look forward to turning her back on the battle and returning to the city any more than Sigrid did.

  While officers bellowed orders outside her tent, Eva shifted from foot to foot with nervous energy as she was fitted into her armor. It was beautiful work, the finest she’d ever seen Soot and Seppo craft, altered from her Windsworn battle gear to reflect her new status as the crown princess. Over shimmering chainmail, she wore dyed blue leathers trimmed with gold. A pair of golden wings were etched across the chest, matching the designs on her bracers. Still, she would have traded it for rags if it meant the Smelterborn would drop lifeless to the ground.

  Around her, Sigrid and Wynn buckled on their Windsworn armor as well. Sigrid brimmed with cooped up frustration at being stuck in the rear away from the battle. Wynn, on the other hand, looked white as the snow-capped mountain peaks, reminding Eva she was just sixteen years of age, barely a full-fledged Windsworn.

  Chel, eschewing armor aside from a chainmail vest, was busy painting herself with battle runes and war paint. As she streaked her face with the chalky paint, she hummed in her own language, an eerie, dirge-like sound that did nothing to help Eva’s nerves.

  “Relax,” Soot said, placing a calming hand on Eva’s shoulder as her attendant finished lacing up her leg bracers. The old smith looked almost like a different person to Eva — his thick leather apron and ember-burned shirt replaced with a dented breastplate and iron cap that covered his bald pate. Even so, she felt comforted by his presence. He gave Eva a reassuring wink and then placed her helm on her head. Like all of the Windsworn’s helmets, two wings rose from either side and long guards covered her nose and cheeks. The burnished steel and silver glinted like a jewel in the sun — if nothing else, Eva at least dressed the part of the heroine.

  In the distance, horns peeled, announcing the Smelterborn had cleared the tree line. Ivan ducked his head inside the tent. He had dark shadows under his eyes from days of labor preparing the defenses. Although not a citizen of Rhylance, Eva had specifically requested he join her guard. The Scrawl Elders were happy to comply.

  “The show’s about to begin.”

  Eva stepped off the stool she’d been on while being put in harness and buckled on her father’s sword at her waist. Much like Soot’s comforting hand, the dull gray blade filled her with courage as if her father was standing there beside her as well. She hoped she wouldn’t have to draw it.

  Pausing, Eva looked around at her closest friends. They’d been through storms, fights and overcome impossible odds together and she wouldn’t have traded them for her own personal guard of golems — although Seppo was more than welcome. The golem stood outside the tent, waiting for them to emerge. Here and there, he recovered more bits and pieces of his memory, but nothing that really served them to defeat the Smelterborn. At first, the men viewed him with suspicion, but when they saw how much he could carry and work without getting tired, the golem was soon a welcome addition to the defenses.

  As more horns pealed, Eva stepped outside the tent and blew out a long breath. Soldiers rushed to their posts as shouted orders echoed throughout the pass. Their gryphons stood saddled and waiting. Eva walked to Fury and a loud cheer went up from the surrounding soldiers.

  Although she wanted to crawl back in her tent and hide, Eva smiled and raised a hand as she passed, face burning with embarrassment. When she reached Fury, the gryphon reared back on his hind legs and clawed at the air with his front talons. Throwing his head back, the red gryphon let loose a hair-raising scream.

  “Show off,” Eva muttered when he came back down.

  “Remember,” Soot cautioned as she swung onto the gryphon’s back. “You gave your word. No joining the battle. You’re to watch from a safe distance.”

  Eva nodded. “I know, I know.”

  Her foster father didn’t look satisfied. “Promise me, Eva.”

  “I promise — no heroics today.”

  Since his journey with the eastern expedition years ago, Soot refused to fly. Eva guessed part of it was a fear of heights, although the blacksmith would never admit that. Seeing as how Seppo was too heavy to be borne by a gryphon, Soot reckoned he was just as good on the ground too, waiting in the rearguard. This last time was the dozenth he’d made Eva swear to stay clear of the fighting.

  The rest of her guard mounted around Eva and Fury. Chel and Wynn on Wynn’s tawny brindled gryphon, Lucia, and Sigrid and Ivan on Sven. Looking up, Eva saw gryphons streaming eastward. Eva and the rest rose in the air and flew straight down the pass, between the two peaks. More Windsworn ferried Scrawls onto the mountainsides, preparing to collapse sections of the pass if worse came to worse.

  Although she knew she would be taking no part in the battle, Eva’s stomach clenched in all-too-familiar twisted knots as they flew toward the battlefront. The shouts of men and women grew louder, accompanied by the deep thrum of siege machines flinging rocks and bolts at the golems.

  They reached the first wall and found a small ledge with a high vantage point to land on. From their vantage, Eva surveyed most of the eastern ridge. Down the slope, just visible out of the tree line, the first wave of Smelterborn could be seen. They marched over fifty wide in a perfectly-spaced line. These were no scouts or stalkers, either, but full-sized fightings golems, a head taller than the biggest of men and almost twice as wide. Their dull gray armor seemed to soak up the sun, even the runes carved into their metal plates were muted, although Eva shuddered to think of the dark words inscribed there. Each bore a shield in one hand with either a mace, sword, or spear in the other — weapons so large a strong man like Soot would barely be able to lift them, let alone wield one in battle.

  The Smelterborn continued to file from the trees. Eva’s mouth went dry. She knew from the scouts how many there were, but seeing them in person, here at the Talon, seemed to increase their numbers tenfold.

  Row upon row of golems marched toward the Talon, undeterred by the catapult shot, trebuchet fire and ballista bolts smashing all around them. Had they been a mortal army, the casualties would have been disastrous. A rock the size of a cow smashed into the ground in the third rank, scattering a handful of Smelterborn like rabbits. It kept rolling down through the golems until it passed out of sight in the midst of the gray army. Those not struck acted like they hadn’t even seen it.

  Eva guessed each projectile destroyed one or two golems at most — the direct hits that smashed in their helmets and torsos sent the familiar dark shadows arcing up through the sky and off into the pines. Eva was surprised to hear their terrible high-pitched screams even from their distance. Whatever demonic souls powered the Smelterborn broke free of their iron confines, fleeing to storm knew where. The rest of the golems struck by the projectiles merely clambered to their feet and fell back in line.

  If nothing else, Eva saw how the boulders and gigantic bolts affected the Smelterborn’s order. Large gaps appeared in the ranks. The golems all continued at the same pace, unable to move any faster to make up lost ground when bowled over by a shot. The sight offered little hope, however. Smelterborn still marched from the trees, their rearguard still out of sight.

  The front lines reached the steeper part of the slope and Eva watched the leaders struggle in the slick mud. Several golems went down, flailing like overturned turtles until they righted themselves. Seeing their companions pass them by with no regard made them seem even more inhuman and dreadful to Eva, their sole purpose of genoc
ide manifested.

  Eva gripped Fury’s lead lines tighter and tighter as the golems neared the first trenches.

  The humans released volley after volley of arrows. Hundreds of shafts flew into the air, the majority clattering harmlessly off the Smelterborn’s armor. Interspersed, she saw gusts of wind, balls of flame and streaks of ice from the few Scrawls mixed in with the regular soldiers working their rune kennings.

  After what seemed both an eternity and a moment, the Smelterborn, splattered with mud, their ranks split like a gap-toothed old man, reached the first ditch. They set about hacking at the palisade walls and sharpened stakes as calm as a man chopping firewood. In short order, they were through.

  Slaughter followed. For a few minutes, the soldiers, lightly equipped so that they would be able to fall back without the encumbrance of plate armor, were mowed down like ripe wheat. It didn’t take long for the soldiers to break, throwing down their weapons to scramble uphill on all fours like terrified animals. Eva felt herself growing sick but forced herself not to look away — the least she could do for the fallen.

  The Smelterborn went about their bloody work in complete silence, their first attack punctuated only by the screams of terrified men and women. In a few horrific minutes, only the dead and the dying remained at the first trench. When the last of the living scrambled past them, caked in mud, the second trench began raining arrows while the siege machines continued to pound away at the deeper lines.

  Through it all, Smelterborn continued marching out of the trees. Eva bit her lip. If they couldn’t hold the golems here, what chance did she have?

  Chapter Ten

  Afternoon passed into evening. The Smelterborn continued climbing the slope. Their progress slowed as the ridge steepened near the entrance of the pass, but nothing could stop the iron golems. Nothing gave them pause or reason to retreat — not that they comprehended retreat. Had the defenders been facing a human army, it would have already been soundly defeated, a credit to the bravery of the soldiers fighting and the design of the defenses and fortifications. But the Smelterborn were not men and cared nothing for the odds they faced or their comrades who perished.

  Eva and Fury grew restless on their ledge, watching the battle unfold below. The group as a whole said little, the tension palpable between them. Whenever a soldier fell, Eva’s hatred for the Smelterborn grew and she wished for nothing more than to destroy them down to the last golem.

  Soon the front ranks of the Smelterborn were inside the range of the siege weapons. Even so, the brave engineers continued to fire on the rear part of the army, refusing to abandon their posts as the Smelterborn drew closer and closer, inching up the hill like a giant gray snail, slowly but surely.

  The majority of the defenders fell back over the walls as the golems crossed the last ditch. They swarmed up ladders and ropes and crowded through a single gate, burdened with the wounded and more than a few dead.

  Up above on the ledges, the Scrawls worked in small groups to channel their powers together, creating ice and firestorms. They hurled boulders through the air down onto the Smelterborn, although this did little more than the siege projectiles or arrows. Rune magic worked effectively to stop to the golems one-on-one, but in large groups, the attacks only slowed the Smelterborn’s progress.

  Overhead, gryphon riders dived at the Smelterborn, dropping rocks and logs on their heads as they passed by. When the first wing made its pass, one bold rider urged his gryphon closer, attempting to snag a Shadowstalker golem and pull them into the air. Instead, rider and gryphon crashed into the mass of dull gray iron. Eva squeezed her eyes shut at the sounds of dying gryphon, screaming and shrieking as the golems chopped them to pieces.

  As terrible as it was to see a fellow rider and his gryphon go down, Eva couldn’t believe the heavy toll the Juarag and their sabercats paid. As soon as the golems reached the second trench, the Juarag had charged, smashing into the side of the Smelterborn with more force than Eva expected. She’d seen war cats in action one on one, but together, they struck like a giant hammer. The sheer power, and ferocity, of the beasts could bowl over even the heaviest Smelterborn.

  They died in waves, but their crazed sacrifice slowed the golems’ progress and the nimble sabercats could move across the muddy slope almost as fast as a gryphon flying overhead. Although she’d spent the better part of two years protecting the eastern borders of Rhylance against the same marauding raiders and their fearsome mounts, Eva’s heart broke each time a sabercat’s bawling death scream ripped through the air. The corpses of the fearsome beasts dotted the ridge and Eva found something tragic and sad in their still, dead forms.

  Eva’s hands tingled and she realized she’d been clutching the front of Fury’s saddle in a death grip. She forced them loose and drew out a long breath, feeling her chest relax as if there’d been a gryphon sitting on it. The sun waned in the sky and Eva realized they’d been sitting there watching for hours. Although she felt sick, she forced herself to drink deep from the lukewarm water in her canteen and force down a few strips of meat and dried fruit from one of her saddlebags. Smelling the food, Fury twisted his head around to give her a guilt-laden look. The gryphons had all been released the night before to find game and she knew he wasn’t starving but Eva tossed a piece of dried meat in the air for Fury anyway.

  By now, perhaps a tenth of the Smelterborn lay defeated on the ridge. Eva guessed for each empty suit of armor, at least three human soldiers had lost their lives with twice as many wounded. After the second palisade fell, the defenders fell back and only attacked with arrows and siege machines, realizing close combat amounted to nothing more than slaughter.

  The Smelterborn inched up the hill as sure as the setting sun, within bowshot of the first wall now. Down below, Eva saw Adelar dressed in gold-chased armor, shouting words of encouragement and waving his spear from atop the first wall. She’d spotted Andor off and on throughout the day flying about and directing orders.

  Eva ground her teeth, frustrated at being stuck doing nothing, watching the battle unfold. By now, they'd all dismounted and were sitting on the edge of the ledge, solemn and quiet. Eva knew everyone else was thinking the same thing as her. As they watched, her hands drummed on the hilt of her sword and she couldn’t help but think what even a hundred such blades could do. When she’d returned home with it, Soot and Seppo had studied her father’s sword, but even after Seppo’s memory began to return and he recognized the construction, he’d regretfully told them he couldn’t replicate it. Eva offered it to both of her uncles before the battle began, but Adelar and Andor insisted she keep it with her. Tahl had told her the same thing the night before.

  She knew her father wouldn’t have stood for waiting around like they were. Aleron and his golden gryphon, Sunflash, would have been right in the middle of the fray, striking Smelterborn down left and right. But that was the difference between them, Eva supposed. In his younger years, Aleron had earned the name “the Pride of Rhylance” for his heroics, while Eva did as she was told, sitting on the rock, stomach churning, anxiety pressing upon her far heavier than her armor did, which was saying something.

  She reached for the Wonder around her neck and clutched it tight. Although she couldn’t see the blue, yellow and rose-colored lights twinkling from its stone, Eva felt reassured by its presence. For not the first time, she wished there was a way to use it against the Smelterborn as a whole. But if the Ancients had ever devised ways to fight the golems en mass instead of with stones and swords, no one had uncovered it.

  The day passed in a long, slow drag of anxiety, boredom, and frustration for all of the companions sitting on the ledge. The gryphons grew tired and restless but were forced to stay grounded in the event they had to make a quick escape. It was even greater torture for them — the sights and smells of the battle below set them on edge in a way only open skies could relieve.

  Sigrid heaved out a long sigh and punched the rock beside her. “I hate this,” she said, teeth grinding together. A
round her, Wynn, Chel, and Ivan nodded in agreement without taking their eyes off the battle below.

  “We should do something,” Ivan said, fingers and lips twitching as he imagined the kennings he’d chant to hurl destruction down on the Smelterborn below.

  Over and over, the thought kept running through Eva’s mind that they could slip into the fray, probably unnoticed. She’d even volunteered to pass messages — anything was better than sitting there doing nothing. She’d started to think waiting at the citadel in Gryfonesse wouldn’t be so bad. At least there, she wouldn’t have to experience the battle firsthand.

  As if sensing their restlessness, a dark, earthy brown gryphon winged toward them and landed on the ledge. Its rider, a fair-haired man near their age named Vallon, smacked his fist against his chest and bowed before Eva.

  “Your Highness —” he began.

  “Oh, storm off, Vallon,” Sigrid said, standing up. She’d been waiting for someone to take out her ire on and the poor messenger proved to be the perfect target. “You can call her Eva, just like the rest of us.”

  Vallon gave a nervous cough, eyes darting away from Sigrid. She was known for her nasty temper throughout the Gyr and it wouldn’t have been out of character for her to pummel him right then and there, especially in her current foul mood.

  “My — Eva, uh, the lord commander and king have requested that you return to your tent and prepare to return to Gryfonesse at first light.”

  “What! You go back and tell my uncle —”

  “Eva!”

  Before she could finish, Andor wheeled toward them on the back of his pale gray gryphon, Stormwind. “Get out of here!” he shouted without landing. “That’s an order!”

  Without waiting for a reply, Andor and Stormwind shot off again, joining with another wing as they soared down over the Smelterborn, dropping debris on their helmeted heads. Fuming, Eva clenched her teeth and swung up onto Fury’s saddle with enough force that the gryphon squawked and staggered to keep his balance.