by Andi Van
“Gisik almost won here,” Nirena said. “But my daughter rallied the magic users, and he was eventually defeated, forced to wait to be reborn and try again elsewhere.”
Tasis’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. “He’s not allowed to go after the same world more than once?”
“It’s another rule,” Nirena explained.
“And just who makes up these rules, anyway?”
Nirena smiled at him and shook her head. “I can’t tell you that.”
It was the answer Tasis had expected, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. And then something else occurred to him. “You asked me earlier if I’d witnessed Triv’s death,” he said. “Why?”
“I suppose we did get a bit off course in conversation,” Nirena said with a laugh. The laugh, much to Tasis’s relief, swept away some of the heavy atmosphere that had descended as they’d viewed the dead world. “Ah, but our detour was an important one. What did you see when your human Triv died?”
“I watched her drown,” Tasis said simply, not wanting to go into detail. Remembering it was bad enough. Talking about it would be near to impossible.
“Anything else?”
“Her body was glowing,” Tasis said after giving it some thought. “But I assumed that was because of her magic, or possibly because I was moving from the vision back to reality.”
Nirena shook her head. “It was neither of those things. That was her soul. The same soul she had as a dragon. So while it’s true that she may not have a single drop of dragon’s blood in her veins now, she has something far more important. And it’s that part of her that was shared with her child, and her child’s children.” She cocked her head and her smile widened, making her look so like Yldost when they were curious that Tasis found himself grinning back. “Not all of her descendants inherited that trait, and in most cases, it was barely there, hidden behind the bearer’s human or elven guise. And that’s the way it was for a thousand years. Until you.”
Tasis pointed to himself, not sure how he felt about the direction this conversation was taking. “Me?”
“You,” Nirena agreed. “There are magic users who are quite strong. Human, elf, giant, dwarf, brownie… those of my children you think of as ‘people’ instead of ‘animals.’ And yet none of them would have been strong enough to withstand the spell Triv had cast to set things right a thousand years later. Vashk knew how long it would be until one of the descendants was strong enough here”—Nirena patted her chest—“to perform the spell. That’s why it was a thousand years. We had to wait for you to arrive.”
“I’m an elf,” Tasis said slowly, as though he was explaining it to a small child. Which was probably going to get him in trouble, but he had to be certain he was getting through to her. “Well, mostly an elf. And certainly not a dragon.”
“You are an elf,” Nirena answered with a nod. She placed her hand over Tasis’s heart. “But you are an elf carrying the soul of a dragon, child.”
Tasis rested his elbows on his knees, staring at her. She simply dropped her hand and made herself more comfortable in her chair, turning so she could bring her feet onto the seat as well. She stared out the window, waving her hand to return it to its usual view. When she said nothing more, Tasis looked at his mother, and Evina nodded.
“It’s true,” she said. “Your father knew.”
“I knew what?”
As one they turned to look as Piren walked into the room with Daro and Zizi. He stopped to press a kiss against Evina’s cheek, then sat. Inexplicably, he was filthy. Whatever he’d been doing, it had involved a lot of mud, and Daro didn’t look much cleaner.
“Exactly what kind of trouble have you been getting into?” Tasis asked. No place that he’d seen on this plane so far involved anything remotely like dirt. Or even anything remotely like the outdoors in general.
Piren grinned, and Zizi let out a sigh. “There’s a plane they like to visit that has very large dogs,” she said.
Evina nodded, a long-suffering look on her face. “Very, very large dogs. Who love to play. And by ‘play,’ I mean ‘drag people around.’”
“They’re very gentle,” Piren protested.
“For dogs twice the size of an average giant, perhaps,” Evina shot back. “Really, Piren.”
“We managed to ride one today,” Daro said, his ridiculous grin full of pride.
“They climbed on top of it for possibly ten seconds until they were scratched off like a couple of fleas,” Zizi told Evina.
Tasis gaped at them in disbelief. “I’m only nearing seventeen summers, and I’m more mature than my own father,” he said.
“Clearly you get that from me,” Evina said. “Thank all that is good for that. And can you two children not get dirt everywhere?”
“Sure,” Daro said, “but what’s the fun in that?”
Nirena turned slowly, then stared at the pair. They quickly became unable to meet her eyes, staring at the ground like a couple of little boys whose mother had just caught them doing something naughty. “You two will go bathe,” she told them. “And then you will clean up the mess you’ve tracked in. Because I could certainly wave a hand and make it disappear, but I am neither your keeper nor your maid.”
Piren cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am.” Without any further discussion, the two shuffled from the room. As they disappeared from sight, they could hear Piren telling Daro, “I wonder how much rope we’d need to make a harness of some sort for them.”
It was silent for a few moments longer, and then Nirena began to laugh hard.
Tasis pointed toward the doorway. “Was he always like that?” he asked his mother.
Evina let out another sigh and nodded.
Nirena got herself under control, released one final giggle, and cleared her throat. “Have I answered your questions for now?” she asked Tasis, her tone warm.
“I’m not sure there are enough answers in the whole of your creation,” Tasis admitted. “There’s so much I don’t understand. But….” He paused for a moment, thinking back on that poor, dead world. “I don’t have to understand it completely to know what needs to be done.”
“Good,” Nirena said with a nod. “Then let’s get started on your training.”
Chapter 9
“DON’T MOVE,” the stranger growled, keeping the sharp edge pressed against Zaree’s throat. If she so much as breathed too hard, she’d be bleeding.
“Who are you?” Kelwin demanded. There was a thud and a grunt, and then the sound of a small scuffle. Clearly their blade-wielding opponent had brought friends, but Zaree couldn’t turn her head to look.
“Don’t move,” they repeated, and Zaree wished the fog wasn’t so thick that she couldn’t see whoever it was. “And your animals had best not try to run off for help, either.”
Zaree had no intention of moving, given that she didn’t want to slit her own throat. She rather preferred to keep all her blood where it belonged, inside her body. “I won’t move,” she promised. “But may I ask who you are and why you’re doing this? Are you working for the king?” She kept her voice calm and polite, hoping it would smooth over the situation a little. It never hurt to watch your manners when someone was threatening to kill you.
The stranger spat on the ground—at least, Zaree assumed it was the ground, given that she couldn’t see past her own nose—and growled. “I would not associate myself with such evil.” The blade shifted slightly, and it was no longer in danger of slicing Zaree’s neck. “You are Zaree Muna?”
“I will not answer that without knowing who you are,” Zaree responded. It may have been a stupid thing to say, considering the blade pressed close again, but she wasn’t going to give away anything until she knew what was going on.
“Tell me,” the stranger demanded.
Zaree felt the blade’s bite, and a thin trail of wetness slid down her throat. She let out an involuntary cry, and it was answered by a loud shriek that she recognized from the first time she’d been up this accursed
mountain. She was shoved to one side by something large, landing on the ground in a heap as the gryphon screamed again.
“So that’s the way of it. You’ve been chosen. Bah na sho!”
The fog cleared as though a sudden stiff breeze had blown it away, and Zaree found herself staring at the fluffy underbelly of the gryphon she’d met previously. It was covering her body protectively and growling at the female elf who faced her. When Zaree tried to move from under the beast, it pinned her down with one set of talons and gave her a look Zaree imagined she gave misbehaving hatchlings. “Okay,” she said with a laugh. “I’m not moving. You can let go.”
The gryphon stared at her before giving a nod and removing its foot from her shoulder.
“Please forgive us,” the stranger said. She proved to be a tall, thin elf who looked like she could break someone apart by sheer force of her rage, making the wicked-looking glaive she was carrying completely unnecessary. Her hair was pure white, her skin a strange shade of gray, and her equally gray eyes gave Zaree chills. Intimidating didn’t begin to describe her. “We couldn’t chance that you were not the person we were seeking.”
Zaree looked around as best she could from underneath the protection of her four-legged friend and saw that their group had indeed been surrounded. The elves looked similar to their leader, tall and bad-tempered, and some were…. Zaree inhaled sharply when it occurred to her what she was seeing. Some of the elves were astride gryphons. “You ride them?”
“You don’t know the story?” The elf considered them for a moment and then her body relaxed. She whistled, and one of the riderless gryphons approached her calmly. It stood still as she dropped the bladed end of her weapon into an odd sheath attached to the gryphon’s harness. Then she sat on the ground, her legs folding elegantly in front of her. “I am Ulminara. I have been sent to you with a message.”
“What kind of message? And who sent you?” Kelwin’s scowl spoke volumes about his lack of patience with any of this nonsense, and he kept rubbing at his chest. Clearly that was where one of the elves had struck a blow, and Zaree imagined it hurt rather a lot, giving how loud the thud of the impact had been.
“Kel, hold on,” Zaree said. “First, let me convince my protector here to let me up. It’s awkward having this conversation while I’m sprawled on my back.” She gently patted the gryphon’s chest. “It’s okay. I don’t think they’re going to try to attack again.”
“We won’t,” Ulminara confirmed with a nod. “I apologize for accidentally drawing blood.”
“You drew blood?” The ice-cold tone belonged to Emlynn, and the chill behind the words was so out of character for her that Zaree had to turn her head and stare. “You have done harm to my family, stranger.”
“It was an accident,” Jorget said softly, resting a hand on Emlynn’s arm. “And she just apologized for it. Calm down.”
“My family,” Emlynn said again, this time through clenched teeth.
“Em,” Zaree said. She waited until Emlynn turned to look at her and smiled. “I’m okay. Come see for yourself.”
Emlynn looked at her, looked at the large gryphon who was still protecting her, and then approached. She stopped a few steps away and bowed to the gryphon. “Thank you for protecting my sister.”
Sister? Zaree wondered when that had happened, but the words warmed her clear through and brought tears to her eyes. The gryphon, in turn, bowed her head to Emlynn and stepped away from Zaree just far enough to take a seat at her side. Zaree sat up, happy to no longer have a rock digging into her back, and Emlynn crouched in front of her. She examined Zaree’s neck closely and aimed another glare at the elf before wiping at Zaree’s neck with her fingers. “It’s not bad,” she said. “Just looks like maybe Rin slid while he was climbing on you or something. It’s no deeper than a bad cat scratch.”
“Thanks, Em,” Zaree said, giving her friend’s hand a squeeze before turning her attention back to Ulminara. Her companions had left off surrounding them and rejoined their leader, making themselves comfortable while still somehow managing to have an air of being ready to attack at any given moment. It set Zaree’s hackles up, but she ignored it as best she could. “Now, what story and what message?”
“The gryphons,” Ulminara said. “They were created by the Maker’s daughter and offered to our people to aid in continuing to protect both the Maker and their home.”
“We didn’t even know they existed until recently,” Zaree said. “And you said something about being chosen. I’m obviously not one of you, so why would a gryphon choose me?”
Ulminara shrugged. “That is not for us to know. A gryphon chooses who they choose. You’ll find they’re a far sight more convenient than horses to ride.”
That gave Zaree pause, and she looked up at the gryphon to find her looking back. Clearly she was an intelligent creature and not a beast of burden, but if she never had to ride a horse again…. “Then there are more of them? They aren’t limited to this mountain?”
“I cannot answer that,” Ulminara said. “For their safety, and for ours.”
But the implication was clear. Gryphons lived among their people. That made Zaree feel better somehow. At least she knew they weren’t in danger of dying off. “Let’s leave it alone, then,” Zaree agreed. “What message, then?”
“The Maker says you’re aware she’s still on our world.”
“What?” Jorget and Kelwin exclaimed, both leveling accusing glares Zaree’s way.
“Vashk mentioned it,” she admitted. “I forgot about it in light of everything else that was going on. But how did she know Vashk told me?”
“The Maker knows what she knows,” Ulminara said, sounding much as she had when she’d talked about the gryphons. Zaree wondered if she always talked like that and guessed she probably did. “She sent us to find you so we could pass on her words to you. You are to let her child correct the wrong they did to the girl, then you are to rescue your friends. When you have done that, you are to travel to our people and stand before her so that she may address you herself.”
“The Maker wants to see us?” Jorget asked, his mouth agape. “Why?”
“The Maker wants to see her,” Ulminara corrected, pointing a finger at Zaree. “But she will allow you to travel with her.” The elf paused, and the look on her face told Zaree she was going over whatever message she’d been given to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. Zaree didn’t think the woman ever forgot anything, but she kept her mouth shut. “There is one other thing. Your friend. The boy who sleeps.”
“Tasis,” Kelwin said, practically pouncing on the words. “What about him? What did she say?”
“The boy’s soul is safe in her company. There are things he needs to do before he can return to you, but he is safe. She also said to tell you that he’s worried about all of you, and that he hopes you’ll be careful.”
And Rin? Daro asked. What about him?
“I do not know of whom you speak,” Ulminara said with a shrug. Obviously she didn’t care about details beyond the fact that she had delivered the Maker’s message, which Zaree supposed she couldn’t blame the elf for. “But if the boy has a companion with him, they would be fine as well.”
“We’d probably get more information once we’re in front of the Maker herself,” Emlynn said. “So perhaps the best thing we could do right now is do what needs to be done and make that happen.” She looked at Ulminara, frowning. “And how do we find her?”
“You will come to our people,” Ulminara said. “We will take you to her from there. You can take the portals, yes?”
“You know about the portals?” Kelwin asked. Zaree hadn’t expected it either, given that not even Rin had known about them, but she imagined the Maker was a slightly better source of information than the cat.
Kelwin’s question earned him a withering look from Ulminara. “Obviously, if I’m asking you about them. You will come to our guild, Forest’s Edge. From there we will guide you.” She looked over at the gryphon ke
eping watch at Zaree’s side. “Bring your gryphon. I imagine she’d like to spend some time with other gryphons. There are almost none left on this mountain.” She stood, brushing herself off before hauling herself onto her gryphon’s back as her companions followed suit. “Do not dawdle. The Mother may have boundless patience, but we do not appreciate those who waste her time.” She barked an order, and the group launched into the air, leaving Zaree and her friends behind.
When they’d disappeared from sight, the gryphon turned her head and made a crooning noise toward the nearby greenery. There was some rustling, and then two hatchlings, smaller even than Rin, staggered out from hiding in that awkward way all baby animals seem to have. Zaree and Emlynn immediately made noises of adoration, and Zaree started to reach out before catching herself. “May we hold your babies?” she asked the gryphon. The gryphon stared at her for a moment, then gave a nod. That was all it took. Both hatchlings were scooped up, and they made an odd purring noise as the girls lavished them with attention. Kelwin watched from behind Zaree for a while, then finally gave in and ran a hand down the length of the hatchling’s back.
“Your children are beautiful,” he told the gryphon, who preened, her maternal pride obvious.
“But if you’ve chosen me, what now?” Zaree asked her. “Obviously they can come with you, but is that what you want? To leave the nest you’ve built here?”
The gryphon stared at her, then turned to look at Bahz. The falcon had perched nearby and was grooming a wing. The gryphon let out an odd warble, and Bahz lifted his head to look at her.
She says it is no longer safe up here, Bahz informed them. They are too few in number, and there is danger in the wind.
“Does she mean that literally?” Jorget asked, keeping a safe distance. Given how clumsy he could be, he was likely afraid of doing something to anger the gryphon. “Is it an actual wind that’s causing problems? Or is she talking about a general feeling that something bad is coming?”
I do not have the impression that she means an actual wind, Bahz said, hopping from the branch he’d perched on to glide over and land on the ground directly in front of the gryphon. The gryphon, in turn, leaned down until she was nearly beak-to-beak with the familiar. She must have seen something she liked, because she warbled and bumped her head against Bahz, nearly knocking him over.