He got his face above water, briefly sucking in oxygen.
“Galahad!”
He heard Trystan on the riverbank and realized that he’d jump into the torrent after him. Trystan would die himself, before he let Galahad drown. In that second, Galahad knew it as he’d never known anything. Anyone sensible would leave him, but Trystan would fly and/or dive right into the water stampede, heedless of danger. Heroism was in his heart and in his nature.
And the son of a bitch couldn’t swim.
Goddamn it.
His lungs burning, his body thrown and crashed in the current, Galahad tried to orient himself in the water. There wasn’t time to figure this problem out in a logical way, since Trystan was about to kill himself. Galahad was just going to have to wing it, as usual. Fortunately, he was a good swimmer. He had four All Kingdom Olympic medals in that sport. Even with his hands bound, he could figure it out.
Galahad’s feet found the stony bottom and he propelled himself upward, grabbing for a handhold. It took a couple tries and then he hit a hippocamp. His fingers seized onto the creatures long pastel mane, using its momentum to his advantage. Through sheer effort of will, he managed to hold on as the animal lifted him from the water. He only had one equestrian medal, but it was a gold.
He loved horses and this was just a big, flying horse. He could handle a horse.
Galahad got his leg around the hippocamp’s wings, used all his strength to heave upward. And then he was sitting on its back.
The creature’s soft hide glistened like fish scales beneath him. Its front feet were like a horse’s and they ran along the surface of the water, while the gossamer wings somehow kept its back suspended in the air. Its body shimmered like a rainbow, all around him.
Had anyone ever ridden a hippocamp before? Galahad wasn’t sure, but he always kinda wondered what it would be like. Turned out it was smoother than he’d imagined, because the hippocamp wasn’t actually touching the ground and it wasn’t exactly flying. More like it was swimming without water. It glided forward at an incredible rate, not even noticing Galahad’s extra weight.
Galahad’s head turned back towards shore, making sure Trystan was still alive. The other man was standing in the shallow water. Apparently, he’d been wading into the river when he spotted Galahad. Now he was staring after him, perfectly still, a stunned expression on his face.
“You okay?” Galahad shouted at him.
Trystan seemed to rally himself. “What the hell are you doing?! Get off of that thing before it kills you!”
“It’s not going to kill me!” Galahad decided, based on a lot of hope and very little evidence. “I think it likes me!”
Trystan threw his hands up like he was too pissed to even yell about that idea.
Galahad waited until he was well away from the waterfall and the river was calmer. Then he jumped back into the river, diving deep. He looked up at the surface as the hippocamp herd raced by, seeing their hooves graze the surface above him and it was just… beautiful.
There were so many beautiful things in the world that he’d never seen before. So many small, magical moments that he wanted to experience for himself. Some days that alone kept him going forward.
Galahad surfaced again, using his legs to keep him afloat. Okay. Well, that hadn’t been too terrible. It could’ve gone better, obviously, but he’d done fairly well. Maybe Trystan would give him some points for improvising.
Probably not, though.
He made a face and started for shore.
“I knew something like this would happen, if I left you alone.” Trystan was waiting for him, still standing in knee-deep water and seething. “I told you so.”
“I knew you were going to say that.” Galahad complained good-naturedly, as he waded towards land.
“What else would I say, in the face of your staggering recklessness?” Trystan bellowed, not appreciating his casual tone. “I scouted this area and no hippocamps were here thirty minutes ago. Suddenly they appear out of thin air, the moment you leave my sight?”
“They came out of The Vale of No Return, actually.” The name was wrong, because things could clearly return. Somebody should explore what else was back there. It was probably awesome.
“If they came from the waterfall, then you did something to release them or create them! Those are the only explanations.”
Galahad frowned, guilt striking him. Poor Trystan. He was really getting worked up and it kinda was Galahad’s fault. “No matter how it all happened, it’s fine now.”
“No matter how it all happened, you are somehow responsible.” Trystan snarled back, following him onto the rocky beach. “So much for your ‘life of truth.’ You said you wished to bathe and instead you incited a herd of…”
“I did take a bath! Look how wet I am.”
Trystan automatically looked down at Galahad’s wet chest and then jerked his gaze back up with a scowl. “Do not distract me. You are not naked. You said I could not come with you, because you would be naked.”
“I said I might be naked. I didn’t say definitely. Not a lie.”
Trystan’s eyes narrowed. “I might let you live through the night. Am I lying?”
Galahad laughed at that, because it was a funny comeback, and he was happy to have survived yet another brush with death and, because Trystan was… Trystan.
Trystan wasn’t nearly so amused. “You may be suicidal, but you are still in my care.” He leaned in closer, so their noses nearly touched. “My life is tethered to yours, whether you like it or not.”
Galahad rolled his eyes. “I was the highest ranking knight in Camelot for most of my career. I don’t need a bodyguard, as I’ve mentioned repeatedly.”
“I promised Gwen that I would care for you.” Trystan shot back. Giving up on intimidating Galahad, he stalked over to sit on a rock, so he could pull off his boot and dump the water out of it. “I will guard your fucking body or die trying. If you have no regard about your own safety, attempt to give a shit about mine.”
Galahad swiped an arm over his wet face. “Your safety is the most important thing to me. That’s why I try to keep you away from all the trouble that follows me around.”
Trystan blinked like he’d been flying and just run smack into a window. “Wait… You think to protect me?”
“I’ve been protecting you this whole time.” Wasn’t it obvious? “Aside from the tomb, when you ignored me and stayed in the tunnel, you have never been in any danger with me. I had the gryphons and those crooked assholes, and the hippocamps under control.” He paused. “The pigs were getting a little out of hand, granted, but I think I could’ve…”
“You’re out of your mind!” Trystan interrupted at a shout, vaulting to his feet, again. “You are in my care, not the other way around.”
Galahad didn’t think so. “I might no longer be a knight, but I still live by the code. I took an oath to protect innocent people. It’s my responsibility to keep you alive.”
And that meant keeping him away from most of the shit Galahad did. The longer he was with Trystan, the more Galahad wanted to keep his mission quiet. It seemed so much safer to keep him far away from it. Nothing was worth Trystan’s life.
Not even finding Atlantis.
Trystan squinted. “You see me as innocent?”
“I see you as Good, straight down to your soul. Way, way better than I will ever be.” Galahad said sincerely. “Even if I’d never given my word to protect the innocent, though, I would still always risk myself before you. Always.”
Trystan stared down at him, breathing hard. For once, he didn’t seem to know what to say. He almost looked lost. “Why?” He finally asked in a serious voice.
Galahad moved closer to him. “Because I’m crazy about you.” He leaned up to press his lips against Trystan’s in a quick, chaste kiss. “Your fun-loving personality has just totally won me over.”
Trystan jolted at the feel of Galahad’s mouth against his. It didn’t take a genius to know that n
obody had ever kissed him before, even in a G-rated way. He seemed puzzled and a little hesitant about the whole idea. …He wasn’t pushing Galahad away, though. His lips softened almost imperceptibly as Galahad’s mouth brushed across his.
Galahad took that as a great sign.
The kiss was over in less than a second, but his own heartbeat sped up with desire. “Kissing isn’t a gryphon custom?” He guessed, reluctantly shifting away, so he didn’t scare Trystan by pushing for more than he was ready to give.
“No. But, I am not opposed to learning how, if you need it.” He sounded defensive. “I will no doubt excel at the skill, once I grasp the mechanics.”
“No doubt.” Galahad smiled and flipped the wet hair out of his eyes. “Just so you learn the mechanics with me, I am all for that plan. Later.” He could wait for Trystan to be completely ready to kiss him back. He’d always been patient. “Right now, I need to dry off.”
Trystan’s gaze watched the beads of water trailing from Galahad’s hair and down his body. “Yes. You should dry off.” He agreed vaguely. “It will be easier to focus on yelling at you, if you’re not so bare and… wet.” One of his fingers ran down Galahad’s chest, like he just couldn’t help himself. Creating a warm path on his cool skin. Gathering up water droplets on his finger and then sucking it dry in his mouth.
Galahad stared up at him, momentarily hypnotized.
Trystan gave his head a clearing shake. “P’don.” He quickly stepped back, his voice returning to normal. “You’re seducing me, again, aren’t you? How do you keep doing this? It won’t work.”
“Of course it will work. All my plans work, once I figure out what they are.” Feeling more confident than ever, Galahad headed towards his clothes. “You know, if hippocamps weren’t wild, I could open an aquatic dude ranch with them for underprivileged families.” He said randomly. “Like that just popped into my head and it would be amazing, wouldn’t it?”
Trystan’s jaw locked, watching him walk away.
Galahad sighed for what might have been. “Can’t do it though, because hippocamps are wild animals that deserve to run free. Still, what a fun place that would be for kids. We could have a waterslide.”
“I know that your mind does not work as mine does.” Trystan ground out, following Galahad. Clearly, yelling at him while wet wasn’t that hard. “I know that you like to distract and misdirect with your ideas. I know that you prefer to live alone in some other world, filled with art and light and mist. But your new plot to ‘protect me’ is not acceptable, in any reality.”
“How do you figure?”
“Because it’s fucking nonsense! I was more ruthless than you in every battle we ever fought. Your people called me a goddamn demon!”
“They’re wrong. You’re Good straight to your soul, Trystan. A hero.”
Trystan blinked.
Galahad made his way along the rocks. “I’m not like that.” He continued. “I wish I was. But, I’ve got too much darkness inside of me. When I have to win --when it’s all on the line-- I will always out ruthless you. I will go places and do things that you never would.”
Trystan let out a long, controlled breath. “You have a pumpkin-curd flavored chewing gum named after you. I am a wanted criminal in several kingdoms.” His tone was filled with pained composure, as he enunciated each word. “I am clearly the more ruthless of us. We are not even arguing about something so obvious.”
“I’m not arguing, at all.” Galahad had been stating an incontrovertible fact. “And it’s a caramel-and-whey chewing gum.” He made a face at the repulsive combination. “Super trendy, but disgusting. Still, all the proceeds go to a dedicated veterinary hospital for tarantula surgeries. They need really specialized care, because of all their legs.” Galahad was happy to lend his name to such an underfunded cause, even though he would’ve preferred ‘Gala-Gum’ to have a different flavor-profile.
Trystan rested his head in his palms, like he was developing a migraine. “You will give me your word that you won’t ever risk your life for mine.” He decided, refocusing on that dumb idea. “Now, Galahad. Before I lose my temper and frighten you.”
“Oh, I won’t be frightened if you lose your temper.” Galahad reached for his shirt, not worried about the threat and not promising a damn thing. “I think you’re really handsome when you’re angry. Has anyone ever told you that?”
The pupils of Trystan’s eyes dilated as if he was so astonished and frustrated and a dozen other things that his brain just couldn’t process it all. Like smashing every letter on a keyboard down at once, his face reflected a bottleneck of incoherence and rage.
Bullshit this man was emotionless.
Possibly due to the fact that he wasn’t supposed to feel feelings, Trystan’s sometimes had a hard time expressing the feelings he wasn’t supposed to feel, but he sure as hell felt them.
“Fucking fucking fuck.” Trystan’s façade of patience collapsed and he went stomping off, swearing in three languages. He was losing his temper alright, but it wouldn’t have frightened a butterfly.
Such a pushover. Galahad’s mouth curved, more encouraged than ever.
If Trystan had emotions… Well, then there was no reason he couldn’t fall in love, was there?
Chapter Eleven
The Looking Glass Pool is a gateway.
It is said that if you look into its reflective surface, the gods see who you truly are. If you are the ya’lah, you will be allowed to pass through.
If not… you are drowned in the dark waters of unknowing, forever beyond the reach of light.
Such was its power that our ancestors erected Listeneise around the Looking Glass Pool. A building to protect it and the sacred object that it shields. No one has seen the graal since the time before my grandmother’s grandmother, but I believe it’s still down there, locked under the silver surface of the pool.
Waiting for a hero.
How the Wingless War Happened
Skylyn Welkyn- Gryphon Storyteller
The Town- Edge of the Wilds
Trystan directed his horse down the dusty street. The town they’d finally arrived at had no official name. Situated on the edge of the Wilds, it was the last place to get water before the final trek towards the Pellinore Mountains. “Civilization” ended beyond this place. As a result, ramshackle buildings had sprung up around a muddy pond, as well as a shop to resupply and some bars to sit awhile and reconsider all the choices that brought you to such a shithole.
Travelers heading to the Moaning Sea or St. Ives stopped, because they had no choice. A few desperate people lived there because they had nowhere else to go. No one else visited, at all.
Last Trystan heard, a group of mercenaries had overtaken the town, so maybe they’d named it. It didn’t much matter to anyone, either way. Everybody in the town, no matter its name, was wingless, though. That mattered to Trystan, because it meant his presence would set off tensions. He therefore planned to spend as little time as possible in the dreary place.
But, at least the wingless were Galahad’s own kind. Perhaps no one would try to murder the knight for an hour or so. That would be a pleasant change from the past week.
“What a sad town.” Galahad said in a sad voice.
“It’s a wasteland of despair and hate.” Trystan agreed. “We’re only staying for an hour. We need to be far from here, before nightfall. Mysterious creatures roam the desert in this area.”
“Tigers?” Galahad guessed good-naturedly.
“Worse. Sandmen.”
“Sandmen aren’t really the savages they’re made out to be, you know.”
Trystan rolled his eyes at that predictably naïve response. “Have you ever met a sandman?”
“No. But the Knights’ Academy told the cadets horrible stories about them. The same kind of horrible stories they’d teach us about the gryphons. They lied about your people, so odds are they lied about the sandmen, too.”
Trystan glanced at him, saying nothing.
Galahad was quiet for a long beat, seeing something in his own head. “They lied about everything. They wanted me to be a killer and it’s easy to kill someone you hate and fear. It’s easier if you don’t see people as people. I realize that now. I wish I had when I was younger.”
Trystan could identify with that lament. Had he known Galahad before, he would have made different choices. He’d once sent a pissed off rock ogre to assassinate this man. He would not do that, again.
…Even though the knight had survived and the rock ogre had somehow gone on to get a master’s degree in comparative literature. According to the stony creature’s valedictorian speech, he’d been inspired by the pep-talk Galahad gave him, after the knight won their fight.
Galahad perked up, like something new had just occurred to him. “Well, there was a bright side to the Knights’ Academy showing me so much propaganda about your kind.” He sighed reminiscently. “That’s how I saw Corrupted by the Winged Devil. A masterpiece of filmmaking about a poor, innocent knight taken captive by an evil gryphon. Unspeakable things are done to his poor, innocent body.”
Trystan glanced his way, intrigued. “How unspeakable?”
“The knight is tied up in a cave, a slave to the gryphon’s unholy desires. Soon the deluded fool is tricked into craving that barbarian’s touch. Submitting to the constant, shameful demands of his captor’s insatiable appetite.” Galahad shrugged. “It’s a fate worse than death. The narrator told me so.”
“That does sound like a fascinating tale.” Trystan allowed. “Far better than most your people tell.” Storytelling was a vital part of any culture, so it was noteworthy that the wingless had come up with at least one worthwhile piece of fiction.
“I know I really enjoyed it.” He hesitated. “…Well, up until the part where the gryphon devoured the guy’s lungs. The ending always seemed tacked on.”
“Gryphons are not cannibals.” Trystan scoffed. “And even if we were, lungs are unwise to eat from any animal. They require specialized preparation. If you ate meat, like a normal person, you would know this.”
Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4) Page 18
