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IRONWING ANGLED OFF with her escort and sailed over the main courtyard, landing between the two massive oaks that must have been growing there for half a millennium. Between the oaks, flanking the path to the door, were tall, bronze statues, human in shape but lacking distinct features, one each for the God and Goddess. A dozen Sky Guards and several gryphons with Sixtalon and Slashtail circled us as our party landed and those of us riding dismounted. Sid and I sprinted for the doors, which of course we found locked. Ironwing glared at the doors, then whirled, tail lashing, and screamed a command in gryphon speech.
Sixtalon did a fast turn, made a pass over the broad courtyard, and screeched something at his grandson. The two of them made for the center of the courtyard, dominated by the pair of statues, each twice the size of a man. Both statues toppled in that first pass. In the second, the gryphons grabbed them in taloned forefeet and lifted them like they were twigs. They lofted together, then wheeled and plunged toward the cathedral.
Sid and I ducked to the right, the others went left, and the gryphons roared in. At the last moment, one after the other, they released their payloads, and the statues slammed into the doors, one on each side. The doors exploded inward in a shower of splinters and twisted steel bands. The gryphons made tight turns and soared up and over the cathedral, disappearing from view for a moment. A volley of shots echoed from inside, and darts hissed through the air, but the shots went wild and ceased as the statues crashed through the nave, creating havoc before clanging to rest. The Guardians that had landed with us opened fire, covering my team as we crouched, ready to rush inside.
Bellowing roars rang out behind us. I looked back and saw manticores, a black wave of them, headed our way.
“Stop them!” I shouted. “Hold them here!”
Gryphon screams answered the bellowing as Guardian teams overhead whirled and met the manticores head on. More eagle cries came from above and I glanced up, seeing Sixtalon and a dozen or so gryphons plunging into the fray.
Ironwing faced the battle being joined over the courtyard, tufted tail lashing. She looked over her shoulder and in a voice loud and shrill shouted , “Be alive when next we meet!” And with that she lofted and hurled herself into the fight.
“Likewise,” I shouted, though I knew she couldn’t hear me. A pang of fear struck me for her sake. I’d grown rather fond of the gryphon Queen.
Harta, Burnay, and their gryphon partners bounded through the ruined doors, one after the other, then lofted and leapt at what was left of the defenders inside. Resistance was fierce but disorganized, and even the boldest of the Regent’s men fled the advance of two raging gryphons. Dismounted Guardians continued their carefully orchestrated cover fire. Sid and I led Parick and Grevin down a side aisle, past the ends of smashed pews that stuck up at crazy angles, and into the nave. The place reeked of manticore and there were piles of filth everywhere; the cathedral itself had been used to house them. One of the statues had landed on the altar, reducing it to chunks of broken marble and wood. As we bypassed the bent statue and shattered altar, the door into the Abbey burst open and a dozen men in blue and white livery rushed us.
Not men. Each and every one of them was a Moj warrior.
Moj have no battle cries. Instead, they come at you in cold silence, no wasted motions, with a bearing that speaks of absolute confidence. Sid and I led the charge to meet them, with her sword flaring and howling as it recognized the ancient enemy of the Alvehn. Its light cast sudden shadows of the Moj back on the rear wall, and Sid did have a war cry, that of the Islands, a fierce and primitive ululation that somehow matched the gleaming ferocity of the sword. Sid leaped past me and attacked the Moj.
The Moj were startled and yielded at first, a rare thing. It was a melee on a smaller scale, but a vicious fight all the same as the Moj gathered themselves and counterattacked. In a fight like that you don’t duel with a foe, you lay about and block blows at you, and kill an enemy when the chance happens. For a time we were stuck, our assault matching the squad of Moj only because of the Island woman who led the fight with speed and strength even the largest Moj could not match.
Suddenly there were no Moj. I’ll give them this, and I always do, when they fight they accept only one of two outcomes: victory or death.
These found the latter.
Breathing hard, trying to catch my breath, I pointed to the fight going on among the shattered pews. More of the Regent’s men were charging in from a side entrance and not all were human. A third, unpartnered gryphon was in the mix. “Sid, keep the fight out here! I’ll see to Trey.”
Sid answered with a nod and a salute from a gleaming and glittering blade. I turned from my companions as they followed her into the fray, and dashed into the Abbot’s quarters.
There were no guards in the wardrobe room between the cathedral and the Abbot’s chamber proper. The place seemed almost untouched, with the colorful ceremonial garb and gear of his order neatly arranged on shelves and racks to either side. The Abbot served as a bishop of sorts, with all the paraphernalia you’d expect. In the far wall was a door; it was open, and the room beyond was well lit. Sword ready, I strode through it.
Edren was there, waiting for me.
On the large bed snugged up against the far wall lay my brother among the Alvehn, covered to his chin with a white sheet, and to his chest by an ornate blanket of gold and green. Only his head and face were exposed, pale hair cleaned of the dye he’d used and spread over the white pillow. He seemed to sleep peacefully. A device made of five smooth, greenish spheres enmeshed in a network of pale yellow beams of light hovered over the bed. It was the Alvehn interrogator Trey had glimpsed during our foray into the Abbey. All Edren had to do was activate it, and what Trey knew of the empathy bridge would belong to the traitor. Something like a small, canary-yellow jewel was attached to Edren’s forehead by some means I couldn’t see; it was the receiving end of the interrogator, which would feed what it gathered straight into Edren’s brain. As I watched, the beams of light became a golden haze around the device and a tendril of that light reached down from the equipment floating over Trey’s head as if about to caress his face, then stiffened and stabbed into his forehead. Trey didn’t react to the intrusion at all.
“I waited for your arrival,” said Edren with a small, cold smile. His face was so much like Trey’s that it was a little unnerving, except for the expression around those violet eyes. There I saw a cruelty to be found in no other Alvehn I’d ever known. He wore only Alvehn armor, which had the disconcerting effect of making him look like a tall, grey mannequin. “I know such abuses distress you, and I didn’t want you to miss this one.”
“How thoughtful of you,” I replied. “But we’re a little short on time...” I lunged.
We fought, back and forth and around the room, swords ringing against each other, flashing and sparking as they met. The only other time we’d fought, blades were not involved, and to my alarm it was immediately obvious that he was the better swordsman. Well, hell, he had about a thousand years more experience. I was quickly on the defensive and by the second circuit of the room I knew I was in trouble. Edren was playing with me, wearing me down, Alvehn sword or no. We traded blows and locked swords, threw punches and tried to trip each other. It was going to take time to beat me the way he was going about it, but that time was running out for me. Trey’s knowledge was accumulating in the memory of the interrogator while we fought; in minutes, it would be downloaded into Edren’s brain.
We locked blades and Edren pushed the hilt of mine down to the end of the bed almost to Trey’s feet; in twisting free I ripped the ornate gold and green comforter off the bed and snapped it into Edren’s path. He waded through the thick cloth, not stumbling as I might have hoped, but off balance enough that I was able to duck below a vicious cut at my head while lashing out with one leg and landing a blow on one of his knees. Edren hissed a sibilant Alvehn curse and staggered back a couple of steps, in pain, but not seriously injured.
I didn’t follow. Instead, as quickly as I could I jumped onto the bed with one foot on either side of Trey and swept the sword through the interrogator. As the device shattered explosively I fell forward on hands and knees, trying to shield Trey’s face from the worst of the shower of debris that cascaded down with me. Almost in the same motion I thrust myself off the edge of the bed and came up with my sword ready to strike. I heard Edren’s sword make a ringing clatter as he dropped it to the wooden floor of the room and shrieked.
I’d hoped for a distraction as feedback from the broken device flooded his mind. It worked better than I expected. Edren clutched his head and howled in agony. His face distorted by pain and rage, he lunged at me, then glared at his sword hand, which was empty.
Last encounter, he’d been a holographic projection. This time, he was real. “Practice makes perfect,” I said.
I swung my Alvehn blade and took off his head.
