by Isaac Hooke
He realized that even if the extra guard had not been there, he would have had a hard time sneaking past the elves guarding his own chamber, considering how well lit it was out there.
He rubbed his forehead.
Why can’t anything ever be easy?
The other two guards showed Solan how to lock his balcony window, and then they departed.
Malem stepped from the tapestry.
“You’re still here?” Solan said.
“You didn’t tell me there were three guards out there,” Malem said.
Solan frowned. “There are usually two.”
Ah. Wendolin must have ordered more guards to watch the two prisoners tonight. Malem probably had three versus the original two at his door as well. The queen obviously suspected he might try something.
Malem returned to the balcony, and opened the double doors.
“What are you looking for?” Solan asked.
Ignoring him, Malem stepped outside. He gazed at the balcony that abutted the next room beside Solan’s. It was a little farther than the previous jump. He glanced up. There were no balconies above him, not until the bark gave way to the tower structure of marble and silver beyond. The closest branches were also a good climb away—not much different from his balcony.
He glanced down. There was another balcony he could potentially use to enter the palace below, but it was a good climb away, and there were no branches to facilitate his descent.
Wait a second. I don’t have to climb.
He went back inside and began undoing Solan’s bed. “Help me tie your bedsheets together.”
In a few moments, he and Solan had formed a rope of sorts from four sheets they had knotted together. Malem secured the top end to the lower part of a rail on the balcony, fastening it tightly.
Then he scooted over the railing, and carefully lowered himself down the narrow ledge formed by the balcony and the railing. He grabbed onto the bars and slid down; once more the knuckles in his fingers flared painfully under the exertion.
He wrapped his hands around the makeshift rope, and loosened his grip to slide downward. He flinched at the friction burn the sudden descent inflicted on his palms, and he tightened his grip, slowing down. He slid past the knots that tied together the sheets in turn, until he reached the bottom of the rope.
His feet floated out in empty air. Looking down, he saw that the balcony was only a couple of yards or so below him. He shifted his weight back and forth, slowly invoking a swinging motion to the rope. That motion became wider and wider, until Malem felt confident enough to release the rope. He did so as it swung toward the balcony below, and then landed with a heavy thud on the tiles.
Standing, he turned toward the glass double doors and peered inside. He couldn’t quite make anything out.
He glanced over his shoulder and watched as the rope tugged upward out of view—he had instructed Solan to withdraw the sheets and hide them on his balcony, a precaution against any passing patrols. There was only a small chance such patrols would notice it, but Malem preferred to err on the side of caution.
He reached toward the door handle and turned. It was unlocked.
A flicker of motion drew his gaze to the upper part of the glass. At first he thought he was looking at something inside the room, but then realized it was a reflection.
Something crashed into him from behind, and he slammed into the glass before crumpling underneath the weight of whatever had struck him. It felt like daggers were digging into his upper back: sharp enough, and with enough force behind them, to pierce right through his dragonscale armor.
He had been so worried about evading the elves that he had forgotten about their pets.
A griffin on guard duty had spotted him. And now it pinned him to the balcony with its talons. The beast could have killed him with the deadly beak it possessed, let alone those razor sharp claws, but apparently it had different orders: it screeched into the night, alerting others of its kind. Along with any nearby elves. It would wake the queen, at this rate.
If he had any hope of capturing Wendolin, it had faded when the claws of that griffin pressed down into his back.
22
Malem refused to give up. He wasn’t done, not yet.
He struggled beneath those heavy, sharp claws. Instinctively he tried to Break the screeching griffin, and reached for the closest available energy bundle—the collar’s. The moment his mind thrust inside, the collar tightened so that he was fighting not just the griffin, but the entity controlling the band at his throat, too.
He squeezed the mental fist of his will around the inner membrane of the energy bundle; once again, it was like trying to crush iron. He wondered if a different tactic was in order.
On a whim, he withdrew his mind, forming his mental fist into a single, long finger instead, topped by a thin, sharp point. A spear, essentially. He stabbed down with that spear, into the hard sphere of the membrane, using all his strength. But the spear point merely bounced away.
Yellow dots filled his vision, thanks to the vise clamped around his throat, and he knew he was going to lose consciousness soon.
The griffin’s claws tightened in his back, digging into the muscle. The pain caused anger to flare inside of him, and he directed all of it upon the energy bundle.
Get the fuck out of my head!
He struck again using that spear, with a mental strength enhanced by sheer rage.
He broke through.
He no longer stood upon the balcony. Instead, he resided upon a rise of some kind. It overlooked a rocky landscape that extended before him. The rock of that terrain, as far as the eye could see, was made of bronze, like the collar.
What the hell is this? Some kind of sub-world?
With a shock, he realized the entity had sucked him into the collar. He existed in some kind of pocket world, similar to the realm that held the city of the tree elves.
He heard the tumbling of rocks behind him, and looking up, saw a huge griffin gazing down upon him from the mountain.
He felt the same foreign coldness exuding from that monster as he had from the energy bundle inside the collar. So this was the malevolent intelligence in control of the collar. The elves trapped the minds, or souls, of griffins inside.
That giant beak opened, and bore down upon Malem.
He reached out with the sharp point of his will, and it materialized as a giant, ghostly spear above him. The spearhead impaled the griffin in the neck and arrested its downward motion.
The griffin shrieked, and then bit down on the spear, breaking it. Malem staggered as if struck, the severing of that spear felt almost like a blow. It certainly drained him.
The griffin reached a big claw down toward him.
He raced across the slope as the talon crunched into the rocky terrain behind him. The beak also struck at him, pecking into the ground, breaking away huge chunks of rock. He kept running.
Looking over his shoulder, he reached out with his will again, and this time formed an enormous, ghostly white hand above the griffin. He shoved that hand downward, slamming the griffin into the rock, and crushing its body into the jagged surface. He squeezed at the same time, but was unable to compress the beast. He was reminded of trying to crush steel once again.
Time to switch to a spear.
He released his hold, and the hand vanished. But instead of a spear, he created a sword; the griffin stood up, and opened its mouth, rushing toward Malem hungrily.
He thrust the ghostly blade forward, sliding it home into that open mouth.
Just like that, the ethereal landscape fell away, and Malem was back on the balcony.
He was still pinned to the tiles by the griffin. A normal sized griffin.
CLICK.
The collar opened.
He smiled grimly.
Never collar a Breaker.
He Broke the griffin on his back. It was weak-willed. Not surprising, considering it was domesticated.
He ordered the griffin to get off
of him, and the beast obeyed, leaping from the balcony—there was no room for it there, not if Malem wanted to stand. The monster hovered there just beyond the railing, flapping its wings.
Malem reached up—flinching at the torn muscles in his back, courtesy of the griffin—and slid the collar from his throat. Wondering if he had permanently killed the griffin that lived inside, he pocketed the evil thing.
His connection to the men and women he had Broken returned, as did his link to Vorgon at his core. It felt strong, that link: the Balor had to be close by. Or at the very least, not in that nether world it used to recuperate.
I’m free. This changes everything.
Malem leeched stamina from Vorgon to recover from the effort of opening the collar and Breaking the monster. The former had exhausted him, while the latter had been only a relatively small, additional drain.
The draw caused Vorgon to notice him. Welcome back, Defiler. We come. Have you lived up to your name?
The tree elves will be yours by morning, Malem replied confidently.
We shall see.
He smiled, but offered no reply.
You’re back, Gwenfrieda sent just then.
Yes, he replied. Hang tight. I’ll be coming for you and the others shortly.
Oh joy, Brita said.
Malem suppressed the sudden anger he felt at her tone. You will learn respect.
She didn’t answer. He muted all of them for now. He didn’t need distractions for what was coming.
He stood up just as three other griffins arrived; the beasts had been attracted by the former screeching of the original, undoubtedly. He Broke them, too. Domesticated beasts, all of them. They used five slots each.
He opened the door to the balcony and slipped inside, hopefully before elves on the neighboring trees and balconies noticed what was happening.
He was in a bedroom of some sort. It was unoccupied. A guest room of some kind, like his quarters, no doubt.
He heard the door opening in the adjacent room and hid underneath the bed. He felt nothing on his beast sense, but that could be expected with tree elves by now, who seemed only to show up in his mind when he could actually see them with his own eyes.
Footsteps rose in volume until he saw two pairs of elven boots from his position beneath the bed. As soon as those booted feet appeared, sure enough, he sensed the elves that wore them. He was tempted to try Breaking them, but he knew the chances were slim. Elves were strong willed. Very likely, all he’d end up doing was alerting them to his presence.
The room’s light levels didn’t increase with the arrival of those boots.
So, no elf with fire abilities in this group. That’s probably good.
Not that he planned to attack at the moment anyway.
The guards approached the window.
“What do you think has them all riled up?” one of the elves said.
Malem realized he’d forgotten to dismiss the griffins hovering next to the balcony. He did so in that moment, commanding them to disperse. He felt their energy bundles moving away to take up perches on the branches of nearby tree-towers.
“Must have been a cat or something,” the same tree elf said.
“A griffin wouldn’t screech like that for a mere cat,” the second elf responded.
“It would, if it confused the cat for something else,” the first commented. “Anyway, they’ve all gone now. Must have been a false alarm.”
“Must have been,” his companion agreed.
The guards lingered. Malem heard the balcony doors open, and then the scrapes of booted soles upon tiles. No doubt the pair were inspecting the balcony. Trying to discover whatever it was that might have excited the griffins.
But then the doors closed and the elves left the room. A moment later he heard another door shut in the adjacent room.
They vanished from his beast sense.
Malem scooted out from underneath the bed.
He reached out with his mind, searching. He Broke six more nearby griffins he sensed out there, for a total a ten. Some of those griffins had elven soldiers mounted on their backs, but Malem had the monsters climb high into the air, flying to the quiet corners of Dothloron before promptly dumping their loads to their deaths.
Altogether, those griffins used up a total of fifty slots in his head. He also Broke a bunch of small birds—owls and other night birds—and sent them out to search the balconies and windows of the nearby tree-towers. The birds were to seek out his friends, and to mark wherever there were elves on patrol, or watching.
He also dispatched three of the smaller birds up toward the tower portion of his current tree, to ferret out the queen’s quarters. He sent them an image of her face, so they knew what to look for.
He still planned to sneak into Wendolin’s quarters, but now he didn’t have to worry about mortally injuring her to succeed. At least in theory. She had no direct control over him now, after all.
Though I still have to watch out for those vine attacks of hers. And I can’t let her kill my companions.
Yeah, he was probably going to have to stab her anyway.
But with what? He thought of the griffins he had bound, and the big talons they harbored, and smiled.
He called two of those griffins. He ordered the first one to hover outside his balcony, and the second outside Solan’s. Then he reached out to the half dragon’s mind.
Solan, go to your balcony.
The griffin Malem had summoned appeared momentarily. It hovered next to the railing, just as he’d commanded.
A moment later, Solan sent: Looks like I have a friend visiting. Are we going on a trip?
Good guess, Malem replied.
Should I bring a weapon?
Do you have any available? Malem asked.
Er… cutlery?
Malem shook his head. Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. Grab the biggest, baddest piece of cutlery you can find.
I have a suitable knife in mind, Solan sent.
Malem opened the balcony door and slid over the railing to balance on the ledge on the other side. The griffin repositioned so that it was flying underneath him, and he dropped down, landing on its back just below the neck, positioning his legs on the flanks in front of where the wings joined the body. The griffin plunged a few yards before recovering from the sudden extra weight. Malem nearly lost his balance during the short drop; he reached down and wrapped his hands around the fur at the base of its neck to use as a grip.
He instructed the creature to hover next to the other griffin outside Solan’s quarters.
Solan was only just pulling himself over the balcony when Malem arrived. A large knife was shoved through the belt loop at his waist, where it hung by the hilt guards.
You call that cutlery? Malem sent. Looks like a veritable dagger.
I still consider it cutlery, Solan said.
My kitchen doesn’t have a piece like that, Malem complained.
I may have stolen it from a guard at some point. Solan leaped onto the waiting griffin, and the monster plunged a few yards like Malem’s had. Solan grabbed huge handfuls of fur on its back as he held on as if for dear life. By the way, how do we fly these things?
Leave that to me, Malem replied.
He hovered next to Solan’s griffin for a moment, and tried to reach into the half dragon’s collar, but sensed nothing from the device. He searched the periphery of his mind, wondering if he might pick up a foreign energy bundle, but only found the expected presences. That was too bad. He was going to have to get Wendolin to open it later, then.
The small birds he had sent to act as scouts had picked out her bedchamber by then. Her balcony doors were closed, but made of glass, allowing the flying animals to discern the queen asleep upon the bed beyond. The location the birds shared matched up with where he expected her rooms to be, given the previous visit he’d made.
He ordered the griffins to fly upward, toward the marble and silver tower section of the tree. The creatures flew along
the bark and weaved between the different branches until the main portion of the tree fell away. The boughs continued to grow next to the marble structure, forcing the griffins to continue evading the wooden obstacles. Malem held on tightly to the fur he gripped in his hands.
Malem had the birds scatter when he arrived, and he landed his griffin on the railing of the expansive balcony outside Wendolin’s rooms. A griffin stood guard upon the tiles of that wide balcony, but Malem had already broken it.
Next to the railing was a long window that offered a complete view of the bedchamber beyond. The room was very large, big enough to fit a few griffins with their wings extended. The bed had a canopy, but the curtains were presently open: he could see a figure asleep on the mattress beyond, and recognized the queen’s features. At the foot of the bed rested another griffin—also his.
This is why you don’t use monsters as guards when you hold a Breaker in your midst.
The griffin bent low, balancing precariously on the L-shaped corner of the railing, allowing Malem to slide off. He landed on the balcony tiles as quietly as he could manage.
He stepped aside, and the griffin departed, allowing Solan’s monster to land on the corner next. Solan dismounted the same way.
Malem slipped past the griffin that guarded the balcony and approached the door. Solan followed just behind, giving the monster a wider berth than Malem had.
You don’t like griffins, do you? Malem sent.
Solan grimaced in the dim light. Let’s just say, I have some bad memories of stumbling into a griffin den during a washroom break. They like to attack in packs, you see. A lot of claws, beaks, and hair pulling.
Sounds like the time I accidentally waded into a wrestling match at the fair. Malem reached for the double doors of the balcony. Locked.
He ordered the griffin inside to open the door. It took the monster some effort to grip the relatively tiny latch with its beak, but eventually the creature managed. The lock made a loud CLICK, and Malem shot Wendolin’s sleeping form a worried look past the glass, but the woman remained fast asleep.
Do you think she has any other guards inside? Solan asked. Elven, perhaps?
In another room, maybe, Malem said. We’ll have to be prepared to deal with that.