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THERE WERE STILL A few damaged solar panels in need of replacement the next morning, work that delayed Tensta's intended departure time by a couple of hours. The caravaners remained on the subdued side, still dealing with the shock of violent death, but all were willing to lend a hand where they could. Trey was off helping the surgeon again, after having eaten breakfast with us. Concerns were expressed regarding some of the injured, but what could be done for them had been done. Reaching Daylis at the best possible speed was imperative. After eating, Sid and I prepared horses for outrider duty, and were about to join Norda and Quill when a watcher high on the rocks let out a shrill whistle and a shout.
“Dreyfts! Dreyfts in the west!”
I dug my old binoculars from my shoulder bag and scanned the western sky, eventually finding two green blimps among the clouds. “He’s right,” I said, lowering the glasses. “Sharp eyes, that lad.”
“Where are they bound, do you suppose?” Sid asked.
“Looks to me as if they’re headed right at us. We could signal them as they pass over. Might be able to turn one around and get the injured to Daylis a bit sooner.”
Tensta appeared at my elbow. “How long would it take them to get here, do you suppose?”
“An hour, maybe a bit more,” I replied. “They must have headed out before daybreak.”
She nodded and said, “We’ll sit tight and flag them down. Tell Quill and Norda not to ride yet.”
Tensta strode away to find Korl and tell him of the change in plans. Quill and Norda caught up with us and were duly informed; we left the horses saddled, just in case, and relaxed by the Guild carriage with mugs of tea while we waited. After a while I raised the binoculars again to see what progress the dreyfts had made against the mild easterly prevailing winds of the season. It was significant, and their destination was obvious.
“We won’t need to flag them down,” I said, lowering the glasses. “They’re coming here.”
“How can you tell?” Sid asked.
“They’re losing altitude,” I replied. “And they’re headed straight for us. They mean to tether here.”
“How does that work for us?” Norda asked, standing up.
“We’ll need to tether them to the carriages.” I’d stowed the glasses and was on my feet as well. “Come on, we’ve got to arrange a few things before they get here.”
We found Korl and Tensta, and I told them what I’d seen the dreyfts doing. “But why?” Korl demanded with a frown. “How could they be responding to our needs?”
“The Sky Guard,” Tensta said with certainty in her voice. “They must have flown to Daylis after the fight and set this rescue in motion.”
“You’re almost certainly right,” I said. “But whatever the explanation, we need to be ready when they get here.”
Very soon the caravan was a busy place. The heaviest of the freight carriages were identified and secure tie-off points determined. We were improvising like crazy, but to my eyes the carriages were sturdy enough that the attachments would be safe and secure. At least, they would be as long as the weather held. So far the calm weather of early summer prevailed. If this had all happened after the start of the region’s monsoon, outflow winds from storms in the area would have made it dangerous to tether dreyfts to something like a rail caravan wagon.
By the time I was convinced the caravan was as ready as it could be, the dreyfts were close enough that their green color stood out clearly against blue sky and white clouds. At my suggestion, Korl had his people move the gathering crowd back. The tension on the ropes we’d be using could, if one snapped, lash out and hurt someone badly.
My companions and I waited with Korl, Tensta, Norda, and Quill for the final approach. There were gryphons over us again, circling quite a bit lower.
“I still can’t figure this,” Korl grumbled, standing with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring up at the gryphons. “Why did they come to our aid? I mean, the Sky Guard showing up makes some sense, God and Goddess be praised that they’re still around after all! But the other gryphons...”
“That may be because we were here,” I said. “Before we joined the caravan, Sid and I rescued a young male gryphon from men determined to deliver him to the Regent. Sid and I ran into some trouble a day later and gryphons helped us out. The gryphon in charge that night spoke to me, and I’m reasonably sure that same gryphon was in the group that attacked the bandits yesterday.”
“What would the Regent be wanting with a gryphon?” Korl wore a darkly puzzled frown.
“I don’t know, but surely nothing good would have come of it.”
“From the gryphon’s point of view, perhaps. But what are they to us?” Korl was still frowning, and every now and then his gaze shifted upward, checking the sky.
“They were once trusted allies,” Trey replied.
“They betrayed that trust.”
“No,” said Trey. “They were, themselves, betrayed, and responded as best they could.”
“Betrayed by whom?” Korl demanded.
“The Regent,” said Trey.
Now Korl seemed openly skeptical. “All due respect, my lord Alvehn, but how would you know?”
“I was there. I saw some of what happened. In fact, I was an unwitting tool in the Regent’s plan.” Trey managed not to let his bitterness show. “My companions and I seek to undo what was done. Daffyd’s mercy may have facilitated that quest.”
Korl stared at us, then exchanged a glance with Tensta, who nodded slightly. “There’s more to this than you’re saying, that’s as plain as can be. But I have come to trust you. I still do. I will take you at your word that no harm will come from gryphons.”
“I appreciate that,” I replied. “With any luck, someday we’ll sit down with a couple of beers so I can explain what’s really going on.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” he said with a dismissive wave of one hand.
I met his eyes and said, “Yes, I do.”
“Someday, then, Daffyd,” he replied.
The dreyfts sought a lower altitude and drew steadily nearer, slow by the standards of the Earth I knew, but a much quicker form of transport than wagons or the currently permitted rail system. Even quicker, when they sailed back to Daylis with the prevailing wind on their tails.
I watched the final approach of the huge, not quite animals. And whatever else dreyfts might be, they’re really big. Whales in the sky. As impressive as their size might be, there’s not much to them, meaning they are big gas bags with convoluted innards barely visible through the green exterior. I’m no exobiologist, so I haven’t studied dreyfts, but I know there’s no mind in a dreyft, and not much about them that reacts to their environment. Left to themselves they simply drift among the clouds, feeding on sunlight during the day, just floating idle at night. They have no means of directing their motion. Captive dreyfts are fitted with propellers powered by the same sort of solar-powered batteries the caravan used, with gondolas slung underneath by means of a special padded harness designed to avoid injuring the dreyft.
Dreyfts have loft of a passive form that aids and abets the buoyancy of the hydrogen gas they fill themselves with. Yes, they could blow up, but you’d have to get through their tough hides first. That would require firepower the flying monkey distortions don’t allow. One of the first things Trey’s people did, when they stabilized the Adrathean rip, was to introduce dreyfts. The Adratheans took to them immediately. We don’t have them on my birth world yet, accustomed as we are to faster forms of air travel. I hope that changes, one day. It’s a gentle, peaceful way to fly.
The gondola crews dropped lines and Guild personnel rushed forward to grab them, slowly hauling the dreyfts to the heaviest wagons, where the lines were made secure. The fans on the dreyft harness were all aimed straight up, pushing the great, insensate creatures closer to the ground, allowing those pulling the ropes to haul the dreyfts down. When all was secure, slings and long baskets were lowered and the injured were sent up. Family members and friends followed, climbing rope ladders to reach the gondolas. Standing under a dreyft awhile steadying a ladder, I was bathed in the aroma of a huge floating plant, a pleasant scent that reminded me of a freshly mown field of alfalfa. The pilots of the dreyfts came down long enough to speak to Tensta and Korl, then quickly resumed their commands.
In a remarkably short time the work was done and the dreyfts were cast off, trailing ropes that were quickly reeled in. Turning and rising, they sought the upper air and were on their way back to Daylis.
“You were right,” Korl said as he and Tensta passed us, on the way to handle other matters. “The Guardians brought Daylis news of the attack.”
Trey, Sid, and I wandered over to where the players had gathered. Grevin was there already.
“Could never fathom why anyone would want to be so high in the air,” Mistress Malley muttered, a disapproving frown puckering the wrinkles on her face.
“It’s not so bad, if you don’t look down,” Parick-as-Orlis assured her.
“And you do get used to it,” I added, watching dreyft crew climbing the sides of the living green mountains, checking fans and solar collectors, all of which were attached to the sides of the creatures to allow the dreyfts to feed unhindered on photons.
“Bah!” Mistress Malley remained unconvinced. “I’ll leave you to them, then. Give me a nice slow caravan, close to the ground.”
“The talk is that those gryphons are friends of yours,” Master Malley said to me.
“I may be acquainted with one of them,” I admitted.
“A most useful acquaintance,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Oh, it was so good to see those Guardians!” Mistress Malley’s eyes were shining as she spoke. “Like the good old days. Ah, things were better under the old King, there’s no doubt about it.”
“Ah, now, you’re hardly old enough to remember those days,” Trey told her.
“Oh, but I am!” And she laughed, looking pleased, an expression that smoothed wrinkles the frown had made plain. “And thank you, m’lord Alvehn.”
We stood together for a while watching the dreyfts move off to the west, doing so with greater speed as expected. Master Malley said something about preparing to move on, and with Mistress Malley turned to leave. As they stepped away, shadows swept over us, and a great outcry of fear and wonder rose from our fellow travelers. Over it all I could hear Korl’s bellowing voice, ordering them all to remain as they were.
The gryphons flew in a special formation: a “V” of five gryphons, a solitary individual, then two more as rear guards. I say special, because this is only done when escorting one of the Matriarchs of the Aerie. I noticed that one of the rear guards seemed a bit on the small side. At least a dozen gryphons circled over the Matriarch and her escort. It was hard to get a count, the way they went in and out of the low, fair weather cumulus clouds with which they shared the sky. The lower formation wheeled about with perfect precision, and came back toward us, low to the ground. With deep booming noises as they tipped their wings to brake, they came to the ground not far from where the three of us — Sid, Trey and I — stood our ground as the players retreated. The lead gryphon strode forward with the Matriarch following through the gap he made. Then he stepped aside and let her approach us.
I could hear a predictable outcry from the caravaners behind us, but was of necessity focused on the gryphons. I left the caravaners to deal with current events in their own way.
The Matriarch was dark, with body fur as dark as brown can be, from chest to the tip of her long, leonine tail, and down to the toes of her hind paws. Where she had feathers - wings, mane, and crest - the coloring was dark rust red. The scales of her taloned front feet and her wickedly hooked bill were bright gold. Gleaming eyes of reddish-gold examined me without blinking. This was a gryphon just entering the prime of her life. The Matriarch turned and hissed something in gryphon speech, and the youngster in the rear guard trotted to her side. Then they stood absolutely still, except where the light breeze ruffled fur and feathers.
I’ve seen plenty of gryphons in my time, but this one was exceptional. She was magnificent! And she was, in fact, the gryphon who had spoken to me the night of the manticore attack. The youngster was the gryphon Sid and I had set free.
They waited for us to make a move.
“Gryphon friend,” Trey whispered.
A shiver went up my spine. “Right. I’ve got this.” I stepped forward to meet her. The sword on my back was quiet; it detected no threat. That was reassuring. If these gryphons were hostile, my life was about to end. I walked forward anyway, realizing as I did that if it was my death they wanted, I would probably be dead already. Trey and Sid followed, one step back, trusting my judgment in the matter. I stopped us just out of reach of an easy lunge, unbuckled my sword, and set it on the ground. Using forms remembered from years past, I stepped over the sword and held my hands out to each side, empty. “Let there be peace between us.”
One of the vanguard gryphons, a handsome golden brown, black-maned fellow who still had the mostly red eyes of youth, hissed something I didn’t catch. The matriarch turned her head and glared at him, but didn’t make a sound. He swiftly lowered his head in submission.
“There is peace between us,” she said in that hissing, sibilant version of human speech the gryphons can manage. Looking the other way, she addressed the youngest gryphon. “This is truly the one?”
“Yes, Mother,” he replied. “This is the man who set me free. That woman was with him. The Alvehn was not there.”
She looked straight at me, the pupils of her ruddy-gold eyes like polished obsidian. “You saved the life of my child,” she said. “For that I must give thanks, though I do wonder why you did so.”
“It was the right thing to do, Matriarch,” I replied. So this was her child? “I knew his fate would be a terrible one. I couldn’t allow it to happen.”
“You told him you are Daffyd Outworlder, returned at last.”
“I spoke the truth, Matriarch. I am that man.” I gestured to my right and then my left. “My companions are Treyvar Olvanak of the Alvehn, and Sidraytha of the Isles of Wulde.” They both bowed to her.
There was a pause, then the gryphon said, “I am...” What was said then was in gryphon speech, and transcribing that is difficult. Think the cries of eagles mixed with the warbles of song birds and the roar of a lion. That I’ve learned to understand any of it at all is one of the things that earned me my status with these creatures, on Adrathea at least. And I understood enough of what she said that I immediately went down on one knee and bowed my head to show proper respect in the human fashion. Trey did the same, as did Sid, albeit a heartbeat slower, since she almost certainly didn’t understand what the gryphon had said.
The phrase holy shit reverberated through my mind.
This wasn’t just the Matriarch of a single gryphon line. She was the Matriarch of all the gryphons.
She was their Queen!
I glanced at the young gryphon Sid and I had rescued, and for not the first time in my life realized that, yes, it’s sometimes better to be lucky than merely good at what you do!
“You are very courteous, for humans,” said the gryphon Queen. “Except for that one.” She pointed with her beak out over my shoulder.
Turning, I saw with alarm that Parick — minus his disguise — was approaching. He crossed the distance with a firm, unhurried stride. Grevin was a few paces behind Parick, and said something I didn’t catch, but Parick waved him back. Without slowing his pace, the Prince reached into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a large ring and slipping it onto the ring finger of his right hand.
“No, I do not bow, Matriarch of All,” he said as he joined us, revealing that he understood gryphon speech. There was nothing declarative in his introduction; he merely acquainted the Matriarch with the fact of his station, equal to her own. “But I greet you with all due courtesy, one sovereign to another. For I am the rightful ruler of this land, even as you are queen of the clouds over our heads. I am Parick, son of Staven, King of Morva.”
The disguise was gone, and this was no act; this was a young man assuming the role he was born to fill. If he was in the slightest bit intimidated by the gryphons before him, any one of them capable of biting him in two on a whim, there wasn’t so much as a bead of sweat on his brow.
“So, the Heir yet lives,” said the Matriarch, bright ruddy-gold eyes locked on Parick’s upraised hand. “We had heard otherwise.”
“I’m quite alive, as you can see.”
“But Heir to Morva?” hissed the redder-eyed gryphon the Matriarch had admonished with her stare minutes before. “Do we see that? And why do you wave the fancy little ring?”
The Matriarch turned her head and opened her beak, but the yellow-eyed elder gryphon with them then spoke in a lower, deeper voice. His human words had less of a lisp than either of the other three we’d heard up to that moment. “It is the signet ring of the King,” he said. “I know it well. The old King wore it, as did King Staven, for a little while.”
“He wears it,” came the reply from the angry male, this time in gryphon speech. “But who is he?”
“A fair question, eldest son,” said the Matriarch, pointedly speaking so all could understand. Turning her rust-red feather-maned head toward the elder male, as he came forward to stand with the young gryphon between them, she said, “Well, father? What say you? You knew the late King. Does this man bear the lineage?”
“Aye, daughter, he does. He is the image of the King in his youth.” Something about the way he replied sounded wistful. Or sad.
“Who are you, wing lord?” Parick asked, stepping closer and frowning. “You seem familiar to me.”
“I am...” and the elder gryphon unleashed a torrent of gryphon speech.
“Sixtalon! Orguin’s partner!” Parick’s eyes widened in wonder, banishing the frown, and giving his expression of surprise a boyish look. “The mightiest of gryphon warriors in an age!”
“Yes, young lord. That is how I was known to humankind.” The low grunt of a gryphon laugh came from deep in Sixtalon’s chest. A quick glance revealed the reason for his name, for he had an extra taloned digit on each front foot. “Though I no longer lay claim to being a mighty warrior.” He hesitated, then ducked his head and asked, “Your Highness, what of Orguin? Have you news or knowledge of my old friend?” His elder grandson snapped his beak in irritation and looked away. Sixtalon ignored his behavior.
So this one had been a Sky Guard, once upon a time. It was his partner he asked for.
“He yet lived, when last I was in Morvain,” Parick replied. “That was almost two years ago, now. I’m sorry. I know nothing more.”
“You give me hope, Your Highness, and I thank you.” There was a pause, then Sixtalon said, “I was away to the mountains. My daughter had won the trial and the right to rule, and there were rituals to perform that no human could endure. For the first and only time since our meeting, Orguin and I parted company.” A despairing hiss escaped the old gryphon. “Oh, had we been there, together!”
“You would have died together, I fear,” said Trey. “The Regent’s plan was too clever by far! Your strength and skill would not have availed you, when the Stone was turned.”
“No,” said Sixtalon. “No, it would not have made any difference. For I felt that turning! I know what I would have done. Fled, with the others!”
“You need not explain yourself to these!” his older grandson protested.
“Silence, Slashtail, until you learn courtesy.” The yellow-eyed glare Sixtalon turned on his grandson had nothing of patience in it. The youngest of the gryphons shied toward his mother and closed his eyes, hearing his brother spoken to so harshly.
“Grandfather,” and the younger gryphon lowered his head almost to the ground.
“For what it’s worth,” I said, “the young wing lord’s questions are not really out of line. I would ask them, were our places reversed.”
“As rudely?” and the Matriarch chuckled, a sound that, from a gryphon, has an odd gurgling quality. “I think not.”
“How do we address you?” Parick asked. “For if I recall my lessons correctly, it is only proper for your own people to address you by your title.”
“You remember correctly, Your Highness,” and with that she acknowledged and accepted his claim. “Your folk should call me Ironwing.”
“Ironwing,” I repeated, and bowed low. “We are all honored.”
“And we are well met, Daffyd Outworlder,” she replied. “But time passes too quickly these days. We must decide what to do next. For your Prince must find his way back to the throne, and become King indeed, or many men will die in a needless, unjust war!”
“We saw a few Guardians the other day, when you came to our rescue, and were glad of that,” Trey said. “I assume they were from outposts elsewhere in the Kingdom. What is known of those not in Morvain on that dark night? They can’t have simply disappeared.”
“The madness that happened in Morvain was but a shadow on the hearts of those far from the city,” Sixtalon replied. “But we felt it, and knew something terrible had come to pass. Those of my kind who fled the city scattered, and through them word spread. The Guardians who were unaffected have gathered in the mountains, taking refuge in the Aerie of my people. It is the base of operations for the Sky Guard now.”
“How many?” I asked.
“Some hundreds,” Ironwing replied.
“The Sky Guard was never a very large force,” Sixtalon added. “We did not need to be.”
“Will they support me?” Parick asked.
“I will not speak for them,” Ironwing replied.
“Then I should meet with these Guardians myself,” said the Prince.
“To do that, you must come to the mountains,” said Sixtalon.
“We’re willing to do so,” I said.
“It is a long road,” Parick muttered. “Time passes quickly, indeed.”
“We will not be using the road,” Ironwing replied.
