by Isaac Hooke
“Nicely done,” Abigail said.
Malem frowned. He ordered the griffin to approach, with instructions to rub the fur of its flanks over the blood in an effort to soak it up.
Meanwhile, he very carefully stepped over the crimson stains and entered the storeroom.
He was greeted by a room that was partitioned into aisles by several racks; the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with crates.
“How will we find our stuff?” Abigail asked.
“There is a register.” Wendolin walked to the counter at the front, where a small book rested. She picked it up, opened it, and scanned through to the last entry. Holding the book so that she could refer to it, she walked past the aisles, and entered one that was labeled “C.”
Sylfi and Brita had rested the bodies next to the counter, so Malem stepped over them—and the blood trails—to follow Wendolin.
The queen found the crates containing their weapons. Malem retrieved the belt that held Balethorn, and he tied it around his hips. It felt good to have the trusty blade hanging from his side.
Brita and Sylfi retrieved their longbows and arrow satchels, and secured their short-swords to their hips. Abigail and Malem shoved the remaining weapons into their backpacks for later distribution. Some of those weapons protruded obviously, like Ziatrice’s long halberd, but there was nothing he could do about that. The halberd threw off the balance of the pack, making one of the straps dig into his side, but he barely felt the pressure thanks to his armor.
When they returned to the entrance, the griffin was still rubbing the bloodstains on the floor outside the storeroom. It had successfully soaked up most of the blood, though there were still some minor stains. The fur on its back was tinted red.
Abigail wrinkled her nose. “I’m not flying that griffin.”
“That’s fine,” Malem said. “It’s mine.”
He sent his bird scout forward once more, and followed at a safe distance with the others. In a few minutes, he came across an escutcheon hanging on the wall. It held two crossed swords.
He glanced at Wendolin.
“It means we’re entering the garrison portion,” the queen explained. “Probably best if we don’t wake anyone up.”
“Probably,” Malem agreed.
“Maybe no one’s here?” Abigail said. “And the soldiers have been mobilized to join in the hunt for us?”
“Not these units,” Wendolin explained. “If I’m correct, they would have just finished a twenty-two hour shift. Including the officer we seek.”
“And if you’re not correct?” Abigail asked.
“Then the place will be empty,” Wendolin replied. “And we’ll have to ransack the officer’s quarters to search for the key. Which might not even be there if he’s decided to carry it on his person. So trust me, it’s better if these quarters are occupied.”
There were only a few doors at first. The lead bird revealed two elves on patrol around the bend, moving away from Malem’s current position. He deployed the bird at that bend to keep watch on that patrol.
The doors became more frequent. “These will be the officers’ quarters,” Wendolin explained.
She paused before one of them, and knocked.
A bleary-eyed elf opened the door, and his eyes widened when he saw Wendolin and her retinue.
Malem shoved his way inside, forcing the man back with Balethorn, and the others piled in behind him while the griffin remained to stand guard. Brita shut the door behind them.
The floor was made of wood, Malem noted. Unlike the marble of the hallway outside. He wondered if that meant this elf possessed earth magic.
“My queen,” the officer said. “What—”
Wendolin raised a halting hand. “I don’t have time to explain, Vitan. I need the key to the collars.”
The elf named Vitan nodded. Like all elves, his face was extremely feminine. “Of course.”
He went to a cupboard, and opened the wooden door. He reached inside.
Is he a mage? Malem asked Wendolin.
No, but he—
Before she could finish, Vitan’s hand darted to the right, and he flung some tiny seeds at the floor below the party.
Malem leaped out of the way, and managed to dodge the branches that erupted from the wooden floor where those seeds touched. Wendolin and the other three were instantly snatched up.
He has access to magical objects, Wendolin finished her earlier thought.
Malem rushed Vitan and held the tip of his sword to the man’s throat. Balethorn hummed softly in indifference.
“Fetch the key,” Malem told the elf. “No tricks this time. Unless you’d like a personal introduction to the afterworld.”
The elf nodded quickly.
“You do want an introduction?” Malem asked. He slid the blade menacingly closer.
Vitan stopped nodding, and shook his head fervently.
“You don’t. Good.” Malem withdrew his blade.
Vitan went to another cabinet, and this time when the elf opened it, he produced a metal device resembling an icepick.
He nodded at Wendolin. “Open her collar.”
Vitan went to the queen, who was still bound up in the branches from the floor like Malem’s other three companions. He touched the thin tip to the back of her neck and pressed down so that, from Malem’s angle, it looked like he was stabbing the pick into her flesh. Wendolin’s expression remained unconcerned, almost bored.
Alarmed as that pick continued to descend, Malem repositioned until he saw the back of Wendolin’s neck. The thin, long key was indeed pressing into the bronze band at her neck, and not her flesh, with the long tip slowly vanishing as it was inserted.
When the metal portion had been swallowed entirely, and the handle touched the bronze collar itself, an audible CLICK emitted from the unit. The pick was ejected with such force that Vitan’s hand flew backward.
The collar clicked open. Wendolin’s eyes lit up with power. The branches that held her crumpled away, disintegrating before they hit the ground. She reached up and ripped the band away, and then she spun on Malem.
He tightened his will around her, forestalling the magic that she had no doubt been meaning to throw at him.
Now, now, Malem sent. Be a good girl.
Those words angered her, and branches erupted from the wood directly below Malem. Their tips were sharp, and no doubt meant to impale him.
He immediately drained her of stamina—a lot. She slumped in place, and the branches halted, the sharp tips inches from his chest armor. He wasn’t sure if they would have been able to penetrate the dragon scales of his breastplate, but the impacts would have still bruised him badly.
“My queen!” Vitan said. The officer started toward the slumping queen, but then decided to turn on Malem. He swung that icepick-like key like a weapon.
Malem dodged the blow, but Vitan was nimble, and moved like silk. Before Malem realized what had happened, the man was holding the tip of that sharp key underneath his throat.
Malem was completely at the elf’s mercy.
He tried to enter the creature’s mind, but his will evaporated upon touch.
“What have you done to her?” the officer hissed.
Get him off of me, Malem told Wendolin.
She didn’t respond.
You want me to kill another of your men? Malem asked. Though of course he was in no position to slay the elf right now. But hopefully Wendolin wouldn’t realize he had nothing else up his sleeve.
Give… stamina… Wendolin sent.
Malem gave her a good amount, restoring some of what he had stolen.
She straightened.
Branches grew from the wooden floor and ensnared Vitan, pulling him away.
Malem tried to pry the key from the man’s fingers, but he wouldn’t release it.
“Let go,” Malem told him.
The man stared at him defiantly.
Malem sheathed his sword to use both hands, and finally managed to pry the key loo
se. He wasn’t completely sure how to use it, so he tossed it to Wendolin. “Open their collars. Oh, and I’ll take that.”
He indicated the open bronze band she held in one hand.
When she offered it to him, he reached out, keeping his body well back, not wanting to give her a chance to wrap it around his neck. But she was through fighting, it seemed, at least for the time being, and didn’t try anything.
He collected the collar and slid it into his backpack alongside the other gear he carried.
Wendolin proceeded to disintegrate the branches that held the other women, and opened their collars.
While he waited, he taunted the elf.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” Malem said.
“You’ll never leave this place alive,” Vitan said.
“We’ll see,” Malem told him.
“Nor will she.” Vitan nodded at Wendolin. “We love her, but we’ll kill her before we let her fall into Vorgon’s hands.”
“That won’t happen, not while she’s with me,” Malem said.
When the others were free, he asked Wendolin: “I don’t suppose you can put him to sleep?”
“If you’re referring to the spores,” she said. “Vitan is quite immune. I assure you.”
Malem pursed his lips. “Then I suppose we’ll leave him bound up. Gag him.”
Vines thrust from some of the branches, and wrapped around Vitan’s lower face. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but those vines simply wrapped across his spread lips. His muted whining didn’t care very far.
He glanced at Abigail. She tossed her collar into a corner of the room. Sylfi and Brita had similarly thrown theirs away. He felt relief emanating from all of them.
“You don’t want to keep it?” he asked her.
Abigail shook her head. “I want nothing to do with that thing.”
Malem wondered if he should get rid of his own. It could be used against him if it fell into the wrong hands.
He decided it was too useful a weapon.
He confirmed, via the griffin and his birds, that the coast was clear in the hall outside. Then he exited with the four of them.
They had proceeded down the hall only a short way, toward the quarters of the main body of soldiers garrisoned in that place, when one of the doors ahead opened.
An elven soldier walked out onto the marble floor, rubbing his eyes. He was clad only in a tunic and shorts. When he looked up, and he saw Malem standing next to the queen and three other women, his expression filled with shock.
The soldier abruptly turned around.
“Stop him!” Malem said. But he suspected Wendolin could do nothing, not while the floor was made of marble like that. And the elf was certainly too far away for Abigail to hit with fire.
“Too late,” Wendolin said.
“Run!” Malem ordered. He drew Balethorn. The blade hungered for the three half-dragons that ran next to him—it was able to sense them now that their collars had been removed.
The party dashed forward, led by Malem.
The soldier reemerged to block their path a moment later, sword in hand. Two other elven swordsmen joined him. None of them wore armor. They had no time to don it.
Streams of flame shot out from Abigail, and struck the men. They were thrown backwards onto the marble, their tunics aflame.
More emerged before the party arrived. These were similarly underdressed, and they fell to the arrows of Sylfi and Brita.
As Malem passed the door, an elf jumped at him. Malem swung, deflecting the blow, and kept running. The women behind him sidestepped the attacker, leaving the elf for the griffin.
The monster tackled the elf and ripped out his intestines with its sharp beak. It wavered its head to and fro as it dragged the loops free. Meanwhile, the elf screamed.
More elves emerged, some of them armored, and they attacked the griffin.
Malem ordered the monster to stay behind, and delay the elves for as long as possible. He figured the griffin could last for quite a while, considering the entrance to the barracks was almost a chokepoint.
Glancing over his shoulder, he unfortunately saw other doors open. More elves emerged, and they would quickly have the griffin surrounded.
Abigail launched streams of magic behind her, while Sylfi and Brita fired arrows. Wendolin did nothing. Either she didn’t want to harm her own people, or she was unable—there was no wood for her particular brand of earth magic to tap into.
The party rounded the bend, leaving that section behind. There were no other attackers ahead of them, and they made good time to the entry point.
As he raced through the rooms of the minor nobles and toward the bedchamber, he sensed the griffin was close to death, so he crushed it with his will and drained the last of its stamina.
At the bedchambers, he found the elven man and woman cowering in one corner of the room, held at bay by another griffin that had entered the room to watch them.
He left that monster there, deciding it would take too long to shuffle though the tight doorway back onto the balcony outside. Besides, he had to call in another griffin anyway, since the monsters couldn’t handle more than one rider at a time.
At the balcony, while he waited for Sylfi, Brita, and Abigail to load onto the griffins that hovered beyond, he reached out with his beast sense and found two other griffins not far away and Broke them. They were part of a patrol, and carried riders, so he ordered the griffins to subtly change directions and dump their riders before coming to the balcony.
The pair arrived shortly after Sylfi, Brita and Abigail were airborne, and Malem and Wendolin mounted the two.
After the party was away, he ordered the griffin that remained behind in the bedchamber to make its way out of those rooms and into the main hallway beyond, to stir up whatever trouble it could.
He navigated the griffins between the trees, which were outlined by the lights shining from the windows of different towers above them. His bird scouts continued to envelop the party, forming an early warning sphere. But Malem also kept his beast sense alert, and he detected the approach of a large force of griffins coming from the south. Another big group came from ahead, obviously in an attempt to head them off.
Apparently, the two griffins hadn’t been as subtle in their escape as he had hoped, and the original patrol of elven riders had followed them, dispatching couriers to alert other groups nearby.
Looks like we’re going to have to fight our way out of here, after all, Malem said. I’ve got griffins coming in from the front, and behind.
We always knew it would come down to this, Brita said.
We certainly did, he agreed.
He glanced at Wendolin riding beside him, but her expression was unreadable in the dim light. From her energy bundle, he felt only remorse.
26
As he weaved the mounts between the trees, Malem released most of his birds, and Broke three of the incoming griffins, filling up all seventy-four slots: he had four birds and fourteen griffins under his command. He promptly crushed the wills of those griffins, draining the stamina and killing the beasts, sending their riders plunging to their deaths. He continued doing that, Breaking and killing griffins. The stamina boost he received each time became less and less, to the point that he began to incur a stamina deficient from all that Breaking. He had to draw more and more stamina from Vorgon to achieve each successive Breaking. The amounts began to border on the absurd, and he knew Vorgon wasn’t going to let him keep it up for much longer.
Enough! Vorgon ordered. Yes, there were limits to how much stamina even Vorgon would let him draw in such a short period of time.
So much for that strategy. On the bright side, he’d thinned the ranks of those riders in front to a third of their former numbers, from two-score down to thirteen griffins. This all before the elves had closed to fighting range. Unfortunately, he hadn’t touched any griffins in the pursuing group, but they were still well away, according to his beast sense.
&nb
sp; He ordered the most recent three griffins he had Broken to attack their companions, stirring confusion. He could see those griffins up ahead between the branches of the boughs.
Branches suddenly came alive around him, growing away from the nearby trees in an attempt to wrap around him and his companions. Abigail released streams of flames, and Malem was ready to give the order for Sylfi and Brita to transform so they could unleash their own fire alongside her, when the branches abruptly fell away.
Wendolin.
She in turn animated branches upon the trees closest to the incoming griffins, and snatched them up. He noticed those branches seemed to be handling them gently, as if she was reluctant to kill either the captured elves or the griffins.
Should we transform? Abigail asked.
Not yet, Malem replied. You’ll make a bigger target for their earth magic.
In preparation for the coming flyby, Malem grasped the furry back of the griffin tightly with one hand while he drew his sword with the other. A moment later the party flew past the incoming griffins. He didn’t get close enough to strike at any of them with his sword, but Sylfi and Brita unleashed their bows in rapid succession, downing several elves. Unfortunately, his group also took arrows. His mount was struck, as was Abigail’s.
He immediately ordered the two other griffins he had captured to dive. Those creatures, which had been busy sowing discord among the enemy, descended rapidly as he and Abigail plunged, and wrapped their talons around their shoulders, lifting them away from the slain mounts.
Malem felt the painful pressure underneath the dragonscale armor as those claws held him, but he ignored it, concentrating on steering the monsters back toward the others.
Abigail’s shoulders only had a dress to protect them from the claws of her own griffin, but she was a half dragon, and he knew she would be fine.
The pair reached the other three and they continued away. Meanwhile, the riders who had survived the flyby turned around, joining the other griffins in pursuit. Malem Broke another two griffins in their ranks, since he had freed up two slots, and ordered them to turn on their brethren. Those two Breakings drained him significantly, and he borrowed stamina from Solan and Gannet so that he stayed in the game.