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THE ATRIUM WAS QUIETER; the only people in sight were the students watching the door. Sid didn’t go to the sword case immediately, which surprised me, and instead it turned into a tour of the items on display. My uneasiness was justified, though, because no matter what Grevin said, no matter what questions Sid asked, with steadily increasing frequency her eyes sought out the Alvehn sword in the tall crystal case.
We were beside the display nearest the sword, with Grevin nattering on about the partially open and extremely ancient scrolls it contained, when I noticed Sid was no longer even pretending to listen. She stared at the next glass case, her eyes wide and her lips parted as if in surprise.
“M’lady?” Grevin asked when he realized he’d lost his audience.
“What’s up, Sid?”
“Do you not hear? Can you not? Listen!” She took two steps toward the case; Grevin and I followed suit.
“Hear what, m’lady?” Grevin looked more than a bit puzzled.
“It’s — singing!”
There wasn’t a sound coming from the case. “Uh, Sid, I think we should...”
The sword dropped from the glass stand, pivoted on the tip, and the hilt slammed into the glass. Grevin and I both jumped the proverbial foot. Damn, but that thing hit hard. Its own weight would not have been sufficient to explain the impact.
Sid stepped closer.
“Sidraytha!”
“God and Goddess...” Grevin whispered, making the sign.
I heard it then, the high, shrill vibration. The sword between my shoulders quivered as it might when danger was near and it sought my hand; alarmed, I reached back for a moment to forestall it. The sound rose abruptly and painfully in pitch and volume, and an instant too late I realized what was about to happen.
The glass dissolved into a dry slurry of tiny shards that slumped to the floor like snow slipping from a rooftop. The sword seemed balanced on its point for just a moment, then fell toward Sid, who reached out to catch it by the hilt as it fell. She’d clearly forgotten everything I’d told her, not an hour before.
“Sid, no!”
It was too late. The Islander stood with her back to us, her sword hand clutching the hilt of the Rogue, the length of the blade pointed toward the floor from her hand. The peace bond clicked and rolled back; the scabbard fell away as Sid lifted the sword and pointed it up to the tall ceiling that arched overhead. The Alvehn steel gleamed in the light from the skylights overhead. She turned to look at us over the cross piece, held level with her heart. Sid’s face was a study in wonder and fear. “It — it knows me...” she whispered.
Sid should have been on her knees, bleeding in the glass shards, her hand a charred ruin. She should have been screaming in terror and pain as the Rogue took her life. Instead, she held the sword, now pointed down, her knuckles white, her face flushed and eyes wide. The sword sparkled as such blades do, still vibrating faintly, a high ringing sound easily heard now that it was free of the case.
“Holy crap!” I managed to say after a moment.
“How can this be?” Grevin was finding it difficult to speak. “Such a blade is made for one hand alone. This blade was found five hundred years before she was born.”
“It knows me,” Sid insisted.
And there was no arguing that point. If it were otherwise, she would be dead by now, if she’d managed to keep a grip on the thing this long. All I could do was stand there shaking my head, wondering what the hell had just happened, and wishing Trey was with us.
The students at the door had come running at the sound of raised voices. The young man stepped forward and held a hand out as if to retrieve the sword.
“Don’t!” I snapped, grabbing his wrist. “That thing will kill you if you touch it.”
The look Sid gave him as I shouted did not speak of gentle things.
The boy shook off my hand and drew back, still staring at Sid. “But — she holds it.”
“It — wants her to,” Grevin said. “God and Goddess. It’s surely her blade, now, though how that could be...” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“But it belongs to the museum,” the young woman objected.
Grevin gave her a stern look and said, “We hold these things in trust, not in ownership. And I, for one, will not question the ways or the wisdom of the Alvehn.”
Both students looked abashed and stepped back, bowing their heads briefly to Grevin. The librarian stepped around Sid, who was still rooted in place, sword hanging down from her hand, eyes gleaming with emotion. “What has happened?” she asked quietly. “What does it mean?”
“I wish I knew,” I replied, shaking my head.
“But you have an...”
“It was made for me, Sid. It was made for my hands alone, at Trey’s request and in honor of a service I once performed for the Alvehn.”
Grevin had fished the black and silver scabbard with its baldric from the pile of pulverized glass, and was carefully shaking and brushing it clean of glittering debris. He held all out to Sid. “I do not believe we will need this here, after today.”
“My thanks,” she said, taking it with her free hand and in a single, graceful motion slipping the long blade into the sheath. Then she looked lost and confused. “But I have a sword already. It has been in my family for many years, and can’t simply be abandoned.”
“I can take charge of it, m’lady,” Grevin offered. “I will carry it to the Wuldan hostel this very day, and ask that they take it back to your folk. With a suitable explanation. If that suits you, I mean. Give me your name again, m’lady, so I can better send it on its way.”
“It does, indeed, my friend. And I am very grateful to you for this.” Sid recited her full name while she unbuckled the sword she was wearing, something she did with less reluctance than I might have expected from someone surrendering a family heirloom to a man she barely knew. A moment later the hilt of the Rogue rose above her right shoulder.
Her willingness to surrender that venerable blade to a near stranger bothered me, and it was surely due to some influence exerted by the Alvehn sword. I said nothing of it; it seemed a matter better suited to Trey’s knowledge. Sid was not quite right in her thinking, that much was clear, and I was glad we stood with a good man in that moment. I held my hand out to Grevin and said, “We should be on our way.”
“I agree,” Grevin replied. He clasped my hand, then did the same with Sid. “Farewell, my friends. A safe journey, and — may you find what you seek.” He blessed us with the sign of the Two.
“Come on, Sid.” I turned and tried not to show the sudden need to hurry that I felt. The anxious feeling that something wasn’t quite right was anything but abated, and leaving right then felt like exactly the right thing to do. I always follow such feelings.
Outside, blinking in the sunshine of a bright, clear afternoon, Sid asked, “Why do we hurry?”
“Grevin said not everyone here can be trusted,” I replied. “That mess we made in the atrium will attract all the wrong sort of attention. I’m thinking we should leave town right away.”
“I will trust your instincts,” she said.
We rode out of the university and retraced our route to the main gate, each of us alone with our thoughts. Traffic was much reduced, that late in the day, and we made good time. The itch between my shoulder blades was so strong by the time we reached the gates I fully expected to be challenged. But the same crew was there, and their captain hailed us, full of good cheer.
“That took very little time, as such things go,” he said.
“It turned out to be an easier answer than we expected,” I replied. “Our map has been corrected, and now we can be sure of our way.”
“And you won’t be staying within the city tonight?”
“Alas, no,” said Sid, and she actually sounded disappointed.
“We need to make an early morning of it,” I added. “And if we stay in one of the fine inns of this city, known for their revelry...”
The Captain laughed and saluted us as he stepped aside. “Well, safe journey, friends. And be welcome should you ever return.”
We thanked him and rode on into the suburbs surrounding the wall. I expected my anxiety to lessen, but it didn’t. I couldn’t see that we were being followed, but as we made our way back to the main highway I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched. As the afternoon wore on and we left the more crowded neighborhoods behind, I found myself resisting the urge for more speed. I’d intended to find an inn near the edge of town, before we entered the area of large estates scattered around Morvain, but that didn’t seem a comfortable notion.
“Would it break your heart to spend the night under the stars?” I asked.
“Hardly,” Sid replied with a laugh. “I do so in fine weather as a matter of preference.” She looked up at the sky and sniffed the air. A gentle breeze stirred a few stray hairs that had escaped her long braid. “And this promises to be a fine night. Which has nothing to do with your suggestion, I’m sure.”
“Something isn’t adding up,” I said. “Hard to put my finger on it, but I don’t feel safe seeking an inn, or any other establishment the Regent’s men might think to check.”
“I agree,” Sid said. “Our visit did not go unnoticed.”
“That’s for damned sure!”
“Not what I meant.” Sid seemed vexed. “Though my acquisition of the Rogue Blade didn’t help, I’m sure.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The students who tended our steeds,” Sid replied. “One or both of them searched our saddlebags. Or, at least, mine. She was less than careful. She left a clasp undone.”
“And you’re sure you didn’t just...?”
“I’m sure, Daffyd.” She frowned and added, “I wonder — what might they have been looking for?”
“Clues to our identities, most likely,” I said.
“I am unknown to the Regent, I’m sure,” Sid insisted.
“That’s not something I can claim, unfortunately.” An unpleasant thought occurred. Nothing in my kit would identify me by name, but a properly informed agent would have known to look for a physical trace — a loose hair, perhaps, or just a sample swabbed from the reigns. Edren surely had a lab set up in the city, and would try to see if a genetic fingerprint match could be made. Just as surely he had agents checking anyone visiting the University who remotely matched my description. It was very possible that he now knew of my return. “His means are subtle, but effective. It’s possible he will fail this time, but we should assume the worst.”
“You and Trey have faced him before.” It was not a question, but a prompt.
“That we have,” I replied. “This time, though, I’m taking the bastard’s head. It’s the only way to be sure.”
“You would seem to have just cause. What stopped you before?” And she asked it in such a matter-of-fact way.
“Trey,” I replied.
“They are kin,” said Sid. “I recall Trey saying so. I can see where he would be reluctant for you to do such a thing.”
I nodded and sighed. “There’s more to it than that. The Alvehn are incapable of killing their own kind. Some sort of instinctive block. They just can’t do it, and they can’t stand idle when one of their own is in mortal danger.”
“That — sets them far apart from humanity,” she observed.
“It does.”
Sid was quiet for a while, then said, “You believe them?”
“That they can’t kill each other? Yes, I do. I’ve seen the inhibition in action. I had the opportunity to rid the multiverse of Edren, but Trey was right there and prevented it.” I shook my head; it wasn’t a pleasant memory. “It was reflex. He literally couldn’t help himself.”
“Do you have a sense for where we should stay?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“Somewhere in the hills,” I replied. “As close to the rendezvous site as we can manage, so we can reel in Trey early tomorrow. If I remember correctly, there are springs and small streams scattered all through the area. It’s common land, so no one will mind. Our only problem is likely to be finding an unoccupied site. There’ll be a lot of travelers this time of year, and not all of them will want to spend money on accommodations.”
“If we find a place to fill our bottles, we can manage a dry camp well enough.”
“Yes.” We rode for a while, then I broke the silence. “How are you feeling?”
“I am well, Daffyd,” she replied. “Or well enough. This sword is — distracting. How long did it take for you to grow accustomed to the — presence of your weapon?”
“A matter of hours,” I said. “But that was under controlled circumstances. I don’t know what to expect from this.”
“This is a bit unpleasant, in a way. The sword feels right and wrong, all at once.” She sighed audibly and I glanced over to see a worried frown on her face. “I really could not help it, Daffyd. The sword — it summoned me.” She sounded rather defensive about it.
“Relax, Sid. I believe you.” I gave her what I hoped would be seen as a reassuring smile. “Whatever happened was set in motion hundreds of years ago. No one can rightly hold you accountable.”
“But how can that be?” She suddenly sounded so young, and confused. “How can this sword have been waiting for me for half a millennium or more? How could even the Alvehn have anticipated my birth and my arrival in the University, just in time for the sword to be on display?”
“I wish I could answer that, Sid. I really do. But, for all that I’ve worked with the Alvehn most of my adult life, they still do things that are beyond my understanding.”
She grunted, a clearly dissatisfied sound. “I will have questions for Trey tomorrow,” she said.
“You and me both!”
We traveled up the road for several miles, then turned west and cut cross country, following the lengthening shadows of trees. The scent of wood smoke was everywhere, and we passed a small group of wagons pulled well off the road. Children ran around in the meadow, yelling their heads off. With a little searching, we found a narrow stream — I could step across it on foot — cutting through the grassy slopes where the hills began. Further up the swale, in a patch of woodland that marched from there to the steeper hillside beyond, we found the spring that fed the rivulet, and topped off our water bottles.
Twilight of early summer was settling over the land when we found a quiet dell, far enough from the road that we couldn’t even smell the smoke of campfires. There was no one else about, so we decided to camp there for the night. For all that the area was long-settled and populous, we were able to find firewood sufficient for our needs. Or, well, not needs exactly. I had thoroughly modern Alvehn cooking gear in one saddlebag, so the small fire we built served something other than a practical purpose. I also had a set of Alvehn wards, four of them, that I placed on the ground around us far enough away to give us fair warning of intruders. As the last light of day faded we boiled water for tea on the little Alvehn stove, and ate a light dinner of bread, apples, and cheese.
Seated side by side, propped against piled saddles and gear and with the horses behind us settling down for the night, we sipped the mild herbal beverage the Morvans call sundown tea, talking of anything but the day’s events. Among other things, I told her the tale of how Trey and I came to be partners and friends.
“It truly is a powerful bond that you share,” Sid observed when I finished the story. “I know I have said so already, but it is such a fine thing to see.”
“Yes,” I replied. “Trey is, in all the ways that matter, my brother. A much older brother, of course, Trey being a bit over a thousand years old. That relationship is the reason for me being here. He needs me, and so here I am.”
“It is, at times, that simple,” she agreed.
Of course, it wasn’t that simple at all, as Jorge had guessed back on Earth. I decided not to go there. “Too bad we can’t say the same about the situation he needs help with.”
“Truly.” And she laughed, then shifted around to be able to look directly at me, leaning on her saddle. “So, do we make for the Abbey at once?”
“We need to run this all by Trey first, see what he thinks, but I’d vote for a less than direct approach. Perhaps making for the city of Daylis first.” When she frowned a bit, I said, “We need to assume the Regent knows I’m here. That search of our bags may have tripped us up. Edren isn’t a fool. If he knows that I’m back, he’ll assume Trey is with me, and there’d only be one reason we’d be here.”
“He will expect you to find the Prince, or try to.”
“And he knows we’re pretty good at that sort of thing.” I paused as a thought occurred. “In fact, once he knows for certain we’re on the road, he’ll watch us, rather than try to catch us. Put his men on our trail and hope we lead them to the Prince. Another reason not to go straight to the Abbey, assuming the Prince is there. And we might have a chance, this way, of spotting those who follow us.”
“That would be helpful, indeed,” Sid replied with a nod. “The more control we have over the situation, the less likely violence will be necessary.”
“I’ll fight when I have to,” I said. “But I agree. Any risk we can avoid is a smart move.”
“People think of my caste as inherently violent,” Sid said after taking a sip of tea. “But by my oath, and by the will of the God and Goddess who are never named, I am compelled to avoid violent resolution when I can, and to kill only when I must.”
“A worthwhile philosophy,” I said.
“At home, the lesson is taught to pupils as a song.” And she proceeded to sing it to me, in a strong, proud voice. I didn’t know the Island tongue, back then, but the sound touched something in me that I couldn’t explain. It was as if I somehow understood all the same.
“That was beautiful,” was all I could say at first. “I’ve tried to live that way. Had my fill of death a long time ago, back when the crash happened and the brane for my world became tangled up with so many others.”
“You use words that are strange to me.”
“I’d be hard-pressed to make it clear, since I don’t understand it very well myself.” And that was the truth, even though I’d spent a lot of years on alternate worlds since the brane crash that happened when I was a boy. I told her what I knew, referring back to my earliest memory of dragons lofting over San Francisco Bay. “That we knew dragons when we saw them, from the legends preceding our history, made it clear that crash wasn’t the first.”
“What happened to the dragons and gryphons of your legends?”
“My ancestors probably hunted them to extinction,” I replied with a grimace. “A bad habit we have yet to unlearn.”
The evening grew cooler as we talked, and fog rolled in from the none-too-distant ocean. We’d put a tarp on the ground and now pulled blankets over ourselves. Sid scooted closer to me to conserve warmth, and as I continued talking, put her head on my shoulder and relaxed.
“You do not mind?” she asked.
“No,” I replied. “Was sort of hoping you’d do that, actually.”
She laughed quietly and took one of my hands in hers. “Ah, so the feeling is mutual?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I am glad, though I feel this night we must content ourselves with shared warmth against this chilly mist.” There was a note of chagrin in her voice.
I’d been told that women of the Isles of Wulde were this way. That if a man suited them, the decision was, well, decided. No foolish games. It was obviously true for their warrior caste, at least. I’m reasonably sure the man involved could say no to it — if he wanted to. I was not of a mind to say no to Sidraytha. It felt good being there with her. I let a little disappointment show and said, “Bad timing?”
Sid laughed outright and said, “Such a delicate way of putting it.”
“No worries,” and I squeezed her hand. “I think this will keep.”
“So do I.” She leaned in and kissed me. “Now, tell me more of the boy you were, and I shall tell a tale or two of my own in exchange.”
And so we passed the early evening, trading stories, with a well-tended fire warming our feet, wrapped in blankets and generally comfortable. Sid surprised me by the life she’d lived. Before her journey to the mainland she had served aboard ships of the Islands, fighting the pirates that had in recent years reappeared in the Gulf of Salix. She’d commanded a task force that destroyed a pirate stronghold. That adventure had earned her the right to represent the Isles of Wulde on the mainland.
“I’ve always wondered why so few travel from the Isles to the mainland,” I said. “I’ve met plenty of merchants and ship folk in ports such as Morvain, but only a handful this far inland, and I only got to know one of them very well. All of those were of your warrior caste.”
“We are a people of the sea,” she replied. “It is not natural for us to be long out of the sight of it. Some cannot bear to leave the Islands at all. Strength is needed to do so.”
“So you’ll go home when all is said and done,” I said.
“As will you, when the time comes,” she replied. “This must be understood from the beginning.”
“Pretty much what I had in mind,” I assured her.
We kissed again, and not much later we both fell asleep. We set no watch, trusting in the wards I’d set out. Sometime later I found myself half awake, with all the questions born of the previous day lined up in my mind for undue consideration — I’d much rather have slept.
What was up with the damned sword? Had an Alvehn glimpsed the future of this world, and set the sword here to be found by Sid? Trey had told me that not even the Alvehn could travel into the past. But what if they could calculate what was to come? After all, their math and physics were sufficient to stabilize M-brane points of contact — those shimmery eyesores we call “Rips.” Or was it just a bizarre accident? Had the sword been left active all those years ago, perhaps lost by a dying Alvehn, and Sid’s neural patterns just happened to fit whatever parameters had been designed into the device?
That last seemed almost ridiculous, considering the lengths the Alvehn had gone to, making my sword match my mind. Nothing I knew about Alvehn technology came close to explaining what had happened. We could only hope Trey would be able to provide some insight.
I still couldn’t believe the gryphons would turn on their human partners the way so many now assumed. Grevin certainly hadn’t been convinced, and had said plainly that there were gryphons among the dead, with puncture wounds, who seemed to have died in great pain. But if the gryphons were victims along with their partners, I was left with a truly terrifying question: who or what had been able to kill all those well-armed and well-trained warriors, winged and otherwise? And why did the survivors flee?
The answer to the second question came to me at once: the feedback Edren had sent through the Gryphon Stone had, according to Trey, been meant to induce something like panic. A very well-timed panic.
The answer to the first question eluded me, and as badly as I needed it, at the same time, I really didn’t want to know. An enemy that could take on full-grown gryphons — that sent a chill down my spine.
And then there was the matter of the Sky Guard contingents that had not been in Morvain. Where the hell were they?
I finally went back to sleep, only to wake up with that jerk that happens when something startles you to full awareness. Something I’d heard, it seemed, but couldn’t first identify. Then I heard it again. It was the sound of something sailing through the air over our heads. Wings in the dark mist that hid the stars.
Sid was immediately awake; I could tell from the tension in her body. I touched a finger to her lips to silence her, and just laid there, listening. Fight or flight reflexes were kicking in, big time. I put my hand on the hilt of the sword beside me.
The snap of huge wings beat the air above us. Both Sid and I were on our feet, Alvehn swords drawn.
The wards lit up.
There were four figures rushing toward us, black shapes in the lurid blue light that filled the fog around us. They were already within the perimeter, and that wasn’t right at all. All four came at us in silence; I didn’t wait for them, and neither did Sid. The first black-masked attacker I met lasted just a few seconds, cut down as his momentum carried him past me. They clearly hadn’t expected us to meet their rush head on. Sid shouted something in her native tongue and blades rang against each other in the fog. There was a cry of pain and despair — a man’s voice.
My second opponent put up a respectable fight, and was a lot stronger than I was. But he wasn’t as quick, and he didn’t have an Alvehn sword amplifying his skills. This close, I could see the desperation in his movements as he found himself overmatched. I caught a break and disarmed him. I stepped away and said, “Leave now, and live.”
He jerked a long knife from his belt and came at me. He didn’t live.
It was quiet behind me. I turned and saw Sid standing over a pair of bodies, details blurred by the ward-lit fog. As I stepped toward her, Sid turned to face me, and shouted a warning. But I could hear it coming, could smell it coming. I spun about, sword ready, and was aware of something large and dark about to fly over my head. Something curved down and darted at me. I dodged and slashed, and there was a bellow of pain and rage that faded up into the darkness above the wards.
There was sudden chaos in the dark, fog-choked air above us. Grunts and bellows, the impacts of large bodies and the sound of claws rending flesh. Air rushed through wings and I caught glimpses of raptorial talons and clawed feet. Black, stinking blood spattered us. Abruptly, the sound of combat overhead moved off, and then was gone. Sid and I stood there for a long moment, swords ready, looking around and up, not at all sure it was safe to lower our guard. The smell lingered in the damp, an odor that brought to mind excrement and decay. As we stood, a breeze stirred the fog, shredding it, and I could see the brighter stars in the sky above. I spoke a word of Alvehn and the wards dimmed, becoming faint blue flickers in the wet grass.
A shape with broad, feathered wings soared down out of the night, landing on stout hind limbs, then settling on all fours. The gryphon strode toward us, looking from side to side at the four men we’d slain. In the dim light I got the impression the gryphon, a fully grown and very large adult, was of an overall dark coloring, with much darker wings. As it approached it paused, peered at the ground before it, and gave a hiss of disgust before side-stepping a long, dark object in the grass.
“Outworlder,” it said in the deep parrot lisp voice that just managed human speech.
“I am.” I bowed to the gryphon, then gestured upward with my sword. “Your assistance is greatly...”
“Gryphon friend you were named,” it said, cutting me off. “Gryphon friend you remain. We will be watching.”
The itching presence that was loft filled the air, and the gryphon leaped into the night. Wingbeats that nearly blew us down to our knees quickly took the gryphon out of our sight.
“What was that all about?” Sid whispered, peering up at the rapidly clearing sky. “Ugh, and that smell!” The wingbeats had stirred something.
“I’m not sure, but I think we just got payback for saving that cub, ” I replied in a low voice. “There was something up there besides gryphons, and I hit it, or one of them. Think I cut off its tail or something.” Still keeping my sword ready, I went to the nearest ward and plucked it from the grass, using it as a torch. Sid shadowed me, matching my every move and watching my back as I approached the spot from which the gryphon had shied. “Here, I did hit — oh, crap!”
“What?” She came beside me and stared at the long, jointed appendage with the stinger at the end; it twitched slightly where it lay, surrounded by dark blood. “God and Goddess, what is that?”
“The tail of a manticore.” And I thought at once of the puncture wounds Grevin described.
“A what?”
“A chimera that’s been extinct on this world since before the founding of Morva.” I prodded the tail with my sword, but there was no life left in it. No sting. “I ran into a few of these bastards on my world. Fortunately we didn’t have enough come over to establish a breeding population. I’ll let Trey tell you all about them. Oh, and stay away from the pointy end. That’s a stinger. The venom would kill you in a matter of minutes.”
Sid glanced up, then nodded. “It brought them in.”
“Would have taken four of the beasts. And yes, they dropped them straight down, which explains why the wards went off with these characters already between them.”
I glanced up into the fog, replaying what I could recall of the sounds above moments before. There had definitely been a fight over our heads. The manticores should have swooped in while we were engaging the assassins, but only one had tried to do so, and in a half-assed sort of way, probably due to the arrival of the gryphons. There had surely been more than the one involved with driving away creatures as powerful as manticores.
“Those manticores would have had us, Sid, but for the gryphons.”
“Then we are well-paid for our rescue of the young one.”
“He couldn’t have gotten to the Aerie this soon,” I said. “So there must be gryphons about, possibly gathering information.”
“And he told them of us.”
“Just a guess on my part,” and I shrugged. “But what else explains them being here so soon?”
“Manticores.” It sounded like Sid was examining the name. “They are of an unpleasant nature, I assume?”
“That would be an understatement.” I looked up at the stars that showed through the thinning veil of mist, dreading to see a bat-winged shape eclipsing them as it passed overhead. But there was nothing. “No, this is not good news at all.”
“They can be killed?”
“Well — yes.”
“Then we will deal with them as needs be.” Sid stooped and pulled a mask off one of the dead men and started to wipe her sword clean. She paused, peering at the blade as it sparkled in the ward light.
“They clean themselves,” I said. “You won’t need to sharpen it, either.”
“Very handy tricks,” Sid replied, with more than a little doubt in her voice. She put the blade away all the same.
I put the ward back and spoke the Alvehn word for reset; the wards went out completely. “We’ve been careless,” I said, as my eyes gradually adapted to starlight alone. Fortunately, there was plenty of that. Adrathea’s version of the Milky Way was high in the sky that night, and the corresponding galaxy of that world is significantly brighter than our own. “Should have shut those off already. While active, they’d be easy to detect by a watchful Alvehn. We’ll leave them as is and go by starlight, in case Edren had a backup plan.”
“No need for such,” someone said behind us. We both whirled, drawing our swords again, and found an Alvehn behind us, standing at ease with his arms folded across his chest. It was Edren, without his human disguise. So much like Trey in appearance, but with narrower features. He always looks angry to me. “I didn’t actually think they’d manage to kill you. I was more interested in determining whether gryphons were indeed abroad, and to make sure who you were. A pleasure to see you again, David.”
“Pleasure’s all yours, fucker.”
“Oh, that was a clever comeback.”
I took a quick step forward and cut at him with my sword, a bit more than shoulder high. He laughed, a flat and bitter sound, and asked, “Surely you didn’t really fall for that?”
“I know a projection when I see one. I was just practicing.”
Edren smirked and shook his head as if disappointed. “Welcome back to Adrathea, old friend. And do give my regards to my cousin.”
Edren was gone.
“I hate magic,” Sid muttered.
I sheathed my sword and said, “Remind me, sometime, to tell you about ‘Clarke’s Law.’”
We dragged the bodies off into a thicket of young trees, then went back to our camp.
“Let’s at least try get some more rest,” I suggested. “We should move as soon as it’s light.”
“Agreed.”
Before settling down, however, I skewered the manticore tail with the tip of my sword, and brought it to the fire. Adding all of our remaining fuel, I burned the tip of it, poison sacs and all, after making sure the night breeze would take the stink of it away from us. Bad enough that the next travelers to camp in this lovely spot would find a gruesome sight awaiting them, death by sword being a messy business. I was damned if I was going to leave something that lethal there for someone’s kids to find.
As the thing charred and sputtered, I realized my question about the slaughter of the Sky Guard had been answered. And I’d been quite right — I’d rather not have known.
