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I’VE SEEN A LOT OF fighting in my life, and I’m certainly not shy about taking charge, but organizing aerial combat from the backs of gryphons was a bit out of my league. In the quick strategy session we held back in the mess hall, I made it plain I was relying on Captain Smathe to lead the Sky Guards, then laid out what we needed to accomplish.
“The priority is to get us into the heart of the place,” I told them, nodding my head toward Sid. “From the quick look we had, the Regent has set up shop in the Abbot’s quarters. We came in from the back when we were sneaking around. That won’t work — it won’t be fast enough this time.”
“Through the cathedral doors and the nave,” Captain Smathe suggested. “Much wider than a hallway, and therefore more difficult to block.”
“Yes,” I replied. “We get those doors open and we could even have a couple of gryphons in there with us.”
“Harta and Burnay, with their partners, will fill that need,” Smathe said. “And likely Ironwing will be with you.”
“Likely? Hell, she’ll insist!” I couldn’t help smiling at the knowing look on Smathe’s face. “And you’ll orchestrate the main assault?”
Smathe nodded and said, “We will attack multiple points and divide the Regent’s force.”
"One of your objectives should be to free the monks,” I suggested. “They’ll be of some use in a fight.”
“Trained by the way of their order in self-defense,” Harta said. “But inexperienced.”
“All too true. But get them loose and let them fight. We need all the help we can get!”
“Indeed, yes,” Harta said. The she gave me a look and nodded toward Sid. “Formidable as the two of you surely are, it will take more than that to get past the Regent’s men.”
Before I could point out the obvious fact that she and Burnay would be with us, I heard someone say, “There will be more than two.”
I turned to find Parick coming to the front row of the Sky Guards who crowded the room, with Grevin — who looked grim but determined — beside him. Both were armed with pistols and swords, with Grevin wearing the plate armor preferred by the Sky Guards. Veresa appeared from behind, her arm in a sling and wearing a worried frown on a face that was really too young for such. The look on my face when Parick declared his intentions was apparently easily read. “Every sword we can muster, Daffyd. This is my fight, after all, the battle that will bring what is rightfully mine back within reach. Or take it from me forever.” Then he remembered words I had spoken before and with a smirk added, “All hands on deck!”
I gave him a nod and decided not to argue the point. It was dangerous, true, but the Prince would be surrounded by swords loyal to him. And he was right about this fight. If we failed, his last chance to ascend the throne of Morva was likely gone in any case, and his life wouldn’t be worth two cents afterward.
Captain Smathe saluted Parick and said, “You will be well guarded in any case.”
“Right,” I said. “Welcome aboard.”
“We will not approach unmolested,” Burnay said.
“Of course not,” I agreed. “There will be manticores waiting for us, to be sure. What’s the weather like?”
“Unsettled,” Harta replied. “The upper winds have changed and the rains of summer will soon fall. The storms may even begin today.”
“Good, manticores hate getting wet,” I said. “I need to send a message to Sixtalon.” Smathe waved a young woman forward and she saluted me with her rifle. “Here’s how I want him to assist.” When it was clear she understood, the message was sent.
“Will he manage it?” Smathe asked. “From what you say, support from Slashtail’s flock isn’t exactly assured.”
“They’ll follow Sixtalon,” I replied.
“Enough of them?”
To that, I could only shrug. By then, it was time to go.
In the main hall of the Aerie, Sid and I found ourselves in the midst of a host of armed and armored men and women, all with swords and bayonet-equipped rifles — and hundreds of gryphons spoiling for a fight. There was a grimness to the Guardians that was to be expected, but also a fierce eagerness, for they’d been waiting for this fight for a long time. The main hall was noisy, ringing with human shouts and eagle-shrill gryphon speech. Squadrons were mustered, and I heard orders and instructions shouted. These people knew their business.
I made my way to Ironwing, who stood in a circle of gryphons, three of whom lacked riders. All were lashing their tails, a sure sign of agitation — or excitement. In this case, probably both. These would bear Parick, Grevin, and Sid. I recognized Cirrus as one of the three.
“We hear anything from Sixtalon?” I asked Ironwing.
“No,” she replied. “He will come, Daffyd.”
“I believe that,” was all I said. The Captain’s question was fresh in my mind. Sixtalon would come, but how many would follow? It had seemed promising when Ironwing and I flew away from the glacier, but what might have happened after that, when tempers had cooled a bit?
There was nothing for it. It was time to fly.
Captain Smathe shouted a command and Tallcrest let loose the screaming battle cry of his kind. It was answered until the echoing cries were simply deafening. The place was suddenly awash in loft, and the hairs on my arms literally bristled under the shirt between my skin and the Alvehn armor. Armor that I now knew was not proof against a manticore sting. The first wave from the Aerie formed overhead. As Ironwing rose up to join the second wave I glanced to the north, where Sixtalon was readying the force under his command. If I’d known how to pray...
Of the Guardians able to fight, most were in the air. A modest garrison, fifty Guardians, was left behind to protect the Aerie. That left a force of more than two hundred gryphons with the talons of eagles and the hind claws of lions, each roughly twice the size and strength of a polar bear. Astride each was a man or woman, well armed, all of them combat veterans. The Sky Guard preparing to depart was more than doubled by unpartnered gryphons loyal to Ironwing. We were a force to be reckoned with by any metric. What kept my confidence in safe bounds was the realization that we could only guess at the true strength of the enemy we faced.
For all my worries, watching that airborne army rise into the cloud-choked sky between the peaks of the Gryphon Heights sent the blood singing through my veins. I could feel the Alvehn sword quivering in its sheath, eager to be wielded. Soon enough, I thought, knowing that on some level it would perceive. All too soon.
Once we were airborne the gryphons stopped calling to each other, with only their wingbeats audible. The human contingent communicated by gestures and hand signs that have always reminded me of those used on a baseball field. We flew low and fast, to limit the possibility of detection and to reduce the time the Regent had to respond when we came within sight of the Abbey. I knew some riderless gryphons had gone ahead, looking for and eliminating sentries that might be posted in the peaks and crags along the way. I could only hope they would be successful. The previous night’s misadventure had surely prompted the Regent to send scouts further out into the mountains. He wasn’t known for repeating mistakes.
In due time the gryphons swept around a shoulder of the mountain from which the cliffs extended, and the Abbey came into view. The ancient sprawl of stone buildings hugged the cliff against which it was built and cast no shadows in the grey light that came through the clouds. Our advance guard formed its line and swept in, and the gryphons were no longer silent.
Our enemies answered immediately. With bellowing roars manticores swarmed from the Abbey, rising swiftly in a pair of gyres that merged and rolled through the air at us like a dark wave. They came at us too fast to count, but it was clear that we were already outnumbered. The Guardians seemed not to care. The battle cries of gryphons and shouts from their riders rang out louder. The gryphons did not flinch and a moment later the battle was joined. Gryphons slammed into manticores, and the air was filled with shrieks and roars and darts of bright venomous green that killed almost instantly. The manticores did not die alone. As the winged creatures grappled and tumbled through the air, I saw men, women, and gryphons fall. More manticores fell with them. In seconds my group would be in the thick of things.
A manticore roared and broke through, coming straight at us. Another gryphon broadsided the beast and swept it from our path. I held my sword ready, for the moment unneeded.
The courage I saw around me was an inspiration, but my heart sank. If Sixtalon didn’t show up soon, we’d be done before we started. I glanced at the low ceiling of clouds. We really were badly outnumbered.
And then we weren’t.
Eagle screams sounded above us, then gryphons plunged like stones from the concealing clouds, easily a thousand of them and then some, with old Sixtalon in their lead. To my amazement, Slashtail was there with him. They fell upon the manticores and grappled with them from above and behind, fighting and screaming with a ferocity no human could hope to match. Manticores fell, and so did gryphons, but it was working as I’d hoped, and in minutes we broke through the defenders and plunged through chaos into the Abbey. The great cathedral at its heart, surrounded by a courtyard of stone, rose before us.
Two gryphons fell in beside us as we crossed the wall and angled toward the cathedral. One shouted a greeting in gryphon speech to Ironwing. It was Sixtalon of course, and beside him flew Slashtail. Both gryphons were drenched in the dark blood of manticores. I saluted them with the glittering Alvehn sword, and Sixtalon answered with a sharp cry.
I said chaos, but that one word doesn’t begin to paint the picture. The attack had devolved into a melee. Anywhere I looked I saw gryphons locked in mortal combat with enraged manticores, screaming while their foes bellowed and roared. The Regent’s men were at windows and on rooftops firing darts; very few were getting off more than one shot before the gryphons caught them. The air was already rank with the stink of death. I glimpsed Smathe and Tallcrest leading the squad assigned to free the monks land at the breezeway between the wings of the Abbey. The gryphons stood guard while the riders disappeared inside.
For a moment we were free of manticores. I shouted at Harta and pointed at the massive wooden doors of the Abbey.
