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SID AND I RODE TOWARD town the next morning, leaving Trey to his own devices. My companion was baffled that we could simply part company that way, without arranging a rendezvous. I just assured her that he would find us, using his Alvehn ways, when the time came to do so. By Alvehn ways, I meant the tiny directional transponder Trey had planted in my brain many years before. The counterpart was in Trey, his species being seriously into micro-cybernetics. A lot of that technology doesn’t adapt well to human physiology, but this one was an exception, and it had saved my ass more than once. And, yes, I can detect Trey’s distance and direction, as well.
But explain this to a warrior from a world that’s been stuck at the start of the Industrial Revolution for something like a thousand years? When I barely understand the stuff myself? No thanks.
Instead, we worked on the pronunciation of my first name.
“It doesn’t matter, Sid. I know you mean me.”
She frowned, vexed both by her inability to make the sounds the way I did, and by my lax attitude toward something she found of great importance. “But it doesn’t sound the same, when I say it. That means I have it wrong.”
“If you insist,” I said with a sigh. “Try it again, then. Day-vid.”
“Die-feed...”
And on we went, alternately sincere in our efforts, then cracking up when her attempts to get the sounds went spectacularly wrong. One thing about Sid, she had the sort of confidence that allowed her to laugh at herself. It made for a pleasant morning ride.
It also illustrates something I should have said before. All along, in this account, I’ve related conversations as if they were happening to you and me. Morva has its own language, of course, and the Isles of Wulde have a unique way of speaking all their own. I’m fluent in the former, and Sid spoke that language most of the time we shared this adventure. I’m simply translating, albeit freely.
We were about ten miles west of the city gate when we overtook a horse-drawn cart and its escort of three armed men. All wore swords of some sort, and two of the three carried old muskets. I had the feeling neither of them had a permit, but didn’t see much of a threat there. One shot each, then the muskets were clubs unless I gave them time to reload, which wouldn’t happen unless one of those shots hit me in the head. The cart they guarded was loaded with what looked like a large crate, over which a heavy canvas tarp had been thrown. I hailed them when we were in earshot, not wishing to cause an unpleasant surprise. The cart rolled on and one of the riders with it dropped back.
“Headed for the city,” I said. “We’ll just ride on by, if you don’t mind.” The road was wide enough to do so without any crowding.
“Don’t mind a bit,” the rider replied. And with a gesture waved us on. Mind you, he never took his eyes off us as we passed him and overtook the much slower cart. His eyes lingered on Sid, no surprise, but I expect she was accustomed to that. Sid returned the gaze with the expression of a woman who has already dismissed you as anything relevant. Frowning, the man urged his horse forward and resumed his position alongside the cart, and we urged our horses to a faster walk. Some men bruise more quickly and easily than others.
I really intended to pass them by and leave them to whatever business was contained within an old, overloaded wagon that had clearly seen better days. But their business made itself known to me. There was a brief ruckus in the crate. The cargo was something alive and angry, and horses weren’t at all pleased to be so close. The wind shifted a bit and I caught a whiff of a scent I’d known pretty well, some years ago. A strong animal odor, and easily recognizable through the musty smell of the old canvas.
“Whatever that is,” I said as mildly as I could manage, “it doesn’t seem happy in there.”
“It’ll be less happy still,” said the wagon driver. “At least, it will be when we sell it off to the Regent’s men.”
“And what manner of beast would the Regent find of interest?” Sid asked.
“Oh, a very special sort of beast, young lady. And one more than deserving of the Regent’s attention.”
“On account of them killing all the Guardians, ‘while back,” the rider we’d first spoken to said as he caught up to us. He glared at the driver, clearly annoyed that he spoke so freely about their cargo.
I could only imagine what the Regent would do with a young gryphon. From the size of the cage under the tarp, it was young indeed, little more than a child. I glanced at Sid, who met my eyes and said, in apparent innocence, “I have never seen a gryphon. Not a live one, at least.”
“Ah, well then,” said the rider, grinning and suddenly finding himself relevant. “Have a good, long look.” He tugged a fastener loose, grabbed the tarp, and urged his horse a few steps down the length of the wagon. This pulled the tarp back and revealed the iron cage and its occupant. When his gaze averted a moment, Sid looked at me with one eyebrow raised. I could almost hear her thinking, too easy, so predictable.
I barely caught that look. I was too busy resisting the urge to cut off a fool’s head.
“Young one,” I remarked, and to say my casual tone was pure bullshit would be some kind of understatement. “How did you manage this?”
“Drugged bait.” He grinned, clearly proud out it.
I ride with the Alvehn sword on my back — I’m right-handed, in case you wondered. I reached over and idly scratched the right side of my head while I watched the young gryphon, barely as large as the horse I rode, struggle against its bonds. The beak was strapped shut and its wings were bound to its body with ropes that would not have lasted an instant if its clawed hind feet hadn’t been hobbled. My sword knew what I was about, and was suddenly in my grasp. I drew it free and swung it so the flat of the blade struck the rider square in the face. He howled and clutched his nose, dropping his musket in shock and surprise; his horse lurched out of my path as I urged my own mount forward.
Behind me, Sid shouted a command — someone was not to move, upon pain of death. Then it became an order for all to drop weapons, or someone would lose his head. Something clattered to the ground on the other side of the wagon. A quick look told me she had her sword at the throat of the driver. She gave me a nod. I rode around to the back of the cart and with one stroke cut the steel padlock away, an Alvehn sword being far harder than ordinary steel. The gryphon didn’t move. I hacked at the hinges, and the door to the cage fell back and down to the gravel with a metallic clatter. I reached forward, cut the hobble that bound the hind feet and said, “Back out of there, now!”
The gryphon obeyed, revealing that he understood human speech. On the surface of the road it glared up at me with red eyes that seemed to speak of madness — or rage. This being a gryphon, the color merely indicated that it was, indeed, little more than a child, though surely an angry and frightened child. They would shade toward gold as it grew. Its breast and crest feathers were a washed-out rust color, as were its wings. The coat was tawny, paler below, and a long tufted tail lashed in agitation. The bright yellow beak struck at me as I approached, and eagle talons raked the pavement.
“Hold still, damn it.” With the tip of the sword I cut the straps of the muzzle, the remains of which were quickly shaken off. “Can you free your wings yourself?”
A leonine hind paw rose and raked at the cordage where it wrapped under the gryphon cub’s belly. In a moment, the wings were free; he — and yes, it was definitely male — shook his wings, then flexed them. At any moment he would loft and fly away.
I looked back over my shoulder; the others were just far enough away to take the chance. I said, as quietly as I could, counting on the keen hearing of the chimera, “I am Daffyd Outworlder.” I pronounced it quite deliberately after the local fashion. “Go home and speak that name to your people. Tell them I have returned to help make things right. They’ll understand.”
The gryphon’s beak opened and closed with a loud snap, but he said nothing. I felt his ability to loft make the air feel fuzzy around me, then with a few flaps of his long wings, he rose high into the air with a rush that scattered dust, circled once, and flew off to the west.
Sid lowered her sword and backed her horse away, remaining alert for trouble. The rider who wished to be relevant let out a yell, drew his sword, and charged me while bright blood still streamed from his nose. A moment later he was on the ground bleeding even more, from a pair of painful but hardly life-threatening wounds.
They were all watching me, mouths hanging open, having seen how quickly I’d disabled their leader. I pointed down the road, in the direction away from Morvain. “You’re going to leave those guns on the road and ride that way together. Avoid the capital for at least a week. If we cross paths before that time is up I’ll assume ill intent on your part. That wouldn’t be good, would it?” They all shook their heads. “Bind his wounds and be off with you, then.”
As I rode by the cart the driver glared at me and snapped, “Why? Damn you, why? That thing was worth enough to make us all rich men!”
“It deserved to fly free, not face torture and mutilation at the hands of your Regent.” And no, I didn’t actually know at the time what the Regent would do, but I know the bastard well enough to be certain he wasn’t looking for a pet.
“Those things are bloodthirsty monsters. They deserve what they get.” Anger colored his face and for a moment he seemed to forget the long blade in my hand. “They turned on us!”
“That’s not the way I heard it.” I sheathed the sword, with a quick motion that made him flinch violently. “Ride on, and as you value your life, don’t look back!”
I certainly didn’t look back, though it made that spot between my shoulder blades itch. I heard hooves clattering and, eventually, the creaking of wagon wheels receding.
Sid urged her horse alongside mine and said, “Was that wise?”
“What? Letting them go?”
“Ah, no,” she said with a small shake of her head. “Freeing the beast.”
“The gryphons are not beasts,” I said. “They are intelligent beings as capable of love and loyalty, and of making a mess of such things, as any human you will ever meet.” I glanced up into a clear blue sky, roughly where the young gryphon had disappeared. “No way I could leave him to such a fate, any more than I could let someone torment a human child.”
“I do not disapprove,” Sid assured me. Then she smiled. “I would have done the same.” She didn’t make the sign of the Two, but raised her right hand to touch that two-toned crystal she wore.
We resumed our ride, alert for sounds of riders coming from behind. The erstwhile trappers apparently took my advice and kept riding. I never encountered any of them again.
“What did you say to the young gryphon?” Sid asked after we’d covered a mile or two in silence.
“I told him who I was,” I replied. “And I told him to tell his people I’d come back.”
“To what purpose?”
“We need them on our side. I saw a chance back there to make contact and took it. If they remember me as well as everyone else seems to, there’s a chance they’ll cooperate.” I shrugged and glanced at her, and saw she was watching me as I spoke. “I’m betting that whatever happened, the gryphons are no happier about it than I am. Maybe they’ll work with me to set things right.”
“Do I assume correctly that you believe the Regent is somehow responsible for this breach?”
“Trey does,” I replied. “He has a very good reason to believe it. Trey also seems to think he’s partly to blame.”
“God and Goddess,” she said quietly, looking ahead. “Why?”
I briefly recounted what Trey had said, literally a reality away, in my living room.
“This — Gryphon Stone,” she said when I was done. “I remain unclear as to its purpose.”
“Trey could give you a more detailed explanation, but it’s essentially a bridge between human and gryphon kind,” I said. “When the Alvehn first came to this world, the gryphons hunted humans the way they did any other prey. They were not capable of seeing us as creatures with minds and hearts comparable to their own. Humans saw the gryphons as little better than monsters, and killed them whenever they had the chance. That had gone on for a long time, when the Alvehn arrived. But the Alvehn knew of gryphons from other worlds, and saw an advantage in the gryphons working together with humanity. So they made it possible.”
“We tell tales of great demons who once made war in the Isles of Wulde, demons with wings.” She looked thoughtful. “Some were gryphons, others were darker spirits that are not named. They fought until only the gryphons were left alive. Then the gryphons left the Isles, though no one knows why.”
“Those stories must be from ancient days,” I said. “Long before the Alvehn arrived. The Alvehn are essentially peacemakers, wherever they go. They made the empathy bridge, which somehow allowed both humans and gryphons to understand each other’s feelings. Don’t ask me how it works. Alvehn science — a lot of people call it magic, and it might as well be. Anyway, to make a long story short, gryphons and humans found enough common ground to reach out to each other. One of the results was the Sky Guard. It’s worked for hundreds of years.” I shook my head and added, “I’m still having trouble believing that’s all come unraveled, and so quickly.”
“And yet it would seem to be so,” and Sid nodded her head as she spoke. “I’ve heard stories since I came to these shores, troubles coming to these lands after the loss of the Guardians. There are always those quick to take advantage. The Sky Guard is greatly missed.”
“That’s for sure,” I replied. “They were the keepers of the peace. There was none of the banditry people now fear.”
She looked sideways at me again with a little smile. “So, you would put a rightful heir on his throne and make peace again between humans and gryphons. You’re not much for small quests, are you?” And with a laugh she added, “No wonder they call you a legend.”
I sighed out loud, then said, “Sid, please don’t call me that again.”
Sid laughed again, and I couldn’t help smiling. “I shall refrain, my friend.”
I’m apparently easy to tease, and I never see it coming.
