Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4)

by Cassandra Gannon

  …But neither was watching him burn to death.

  “I need to see a mural up there.” Galahad pointed to the cave. “You agreed that we could go look at it, remember?”

  “You did not tell me where the mural was located!”

  “To be fair, you didn’t ask.”

  “Why would I ask if you planned to venture into a cavern of certain death?” Trystan paused and gave a scoff. “Although with your track record for lunacy, I suppose I should probably be asking that twice a day.”

  “This is going to be so easy.” Galahad assured him, again. “I was a volunteer firefighter in Camelot. I rescued eighty-nine people and sixteen cats from fires.” He brightened. “Oh and I delivered a baby for this super-nice fairy who was stuck in an elevator. She named the little girl after me, too. Galahada. It was an amazing moment. …Then, I had to go stop a volcano from erupting.”

  “You make these stories up, don’t you? There is no other explanation.”

  Galahad pretended not to hear that. “Anyway, I can handle this cave, no problem. I’m figuring out a whole strategy.”

  “My blood runs cold at that sentence. I have heard it as a portent of disaster at least a dozen times, with you.” Trystan scanned the area, continuing to run various scenarios in his head. None seemed promising. “How important is this mural to you?”

  “On a scale of one to ten? I’ll give my life for it, but not yours. So like a nine?”

  Trystan didn’t like that number. “Do not give your life for anything. Not even me.” It was an order. “Nothing is worth the cost of you in this world.”

  “I’m crazy about you, too, Trys.”

  Trystan grunted.

  “I need to do this.” Galahad went on. “But I have it all under control. You wait here. I’m going to just go in there and find the mural…”

  Trystan cut him off, his head whipping around. “I will wait here, while you go in the cave alone? This is your strategy?”

  “Right.” Galahad nodded. “It will be safer to just let me handle the important parts. You agreed to that, remember?”

  “No, I do not remember that, because I did not say it.”

  “Yes, you did. And I have more experience in dealing with evil caves than you do. I stumble across them a lot, weirdly enough. I should go in there alone, so you don’t get hurt.”

  Trystan squinted in bafflement. The knight was trying to protect him, again? Why did this keep happening? And why was it not insulting? Instead, it felt… pleasant that the man cared for his safety. Stupid, but pleasant.

  “I will not sit here, while you go off to die, knight. Are you crazy?”

  “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to go up there and take a look around.” Galahad climbed off his horse, pulling a pack from the saddle and looping it over his shoulders, cheerful and confident. “You worry too much.”

  “Gryphons do not worry. We just know a shit plan when we hear one.” Trystan sighed in exasperation. “You have called me a hero, yes?” He liked that claim, although it was not true. The knight was the only true hero left. “Would it not be wise to have my help, then?”

  “You are a hero, Trys. That’s one reason I need to keep you safe. You’re too special to risk on anything.”

  Trystan snorted at that logic and surrendered to the madness. “I can get you to that cave. This is a better plan, yes? I could fly us over the fire and land right at the mouth of it.”

  Galahad’s head tilted, like he was thinking over the proposal and seeing nothing but flaws. “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea to be allies on this.” He hedged.

  Trystan searched for a way to win him over. Emotions seemed like the quickest answer. Galahad responded well to emotions. “I would feel… lonely if you did this on your own.” He tried, hunting around in the somethings for the right word.

  Galahad blinked. “You’d feel lonely?”

  “I think that is the emotion. Yes. On the other hand, I would feel… happy to be allies with you in this mission. Can you consider making me happy?”

  Yep. That did it.

  Galahad’s hesitance vanished with an endearing swiftness. “If it makes you happy, we can be allies, Trystan. My God, of course.”

  Trystan felt a surge of triumph at his easy victory. Possessing such a kindhearted knight was so satisfying, at times. “Fine.” He got off his horse, pleased with himself and at his new status within Galahad’s pointless quest. “This is still a shit plan, but we will do it together.”

  “You really need to let me take the lead on this one, though. Remember how we talked about trusting each other to know what the other one’s doing? I meant you need to trust me.”

  Trystan grunted again, heading towards him. “We will see.”

  “You promised me I could handle the important parts of this, back in the hotel room.”

  “We have different memories of that event.” Trystan waved a dismissive hand. “You and I are the best at what we do, so we will be able to find a balance in our alliance. It will just take some compromises.” He paused. “Mostly, they will be on your part.”

  Trystan had no idea how it happened, but he knew his path was no longer his own. He now shared it with Galahad and so Galahad was going to have to adjust. It only seemed fair.

  Galahad brightened. “You think I’m the best at what I do?”

  “I think you are special in every conceivable way. This is why the dead gryphons speak to you. Why you hear our ancient songs, yes?”

  Galahad’s head snapped around to stare at him.

  Trystan arched a brow.

  Galahad winced and began climbing the rocks, towards the cave. “Hey, do you think a pumpkin is a gourd or a squash?” He asked randomly. The knight always said odd things, but never more so than when he wished to confuse, mislead, or otherwise change the subject.

  “A pumpkin is a gourd and a squash. And also a fruit.” Trystan said, refusing to be distracted. “How long have you heard the dead gryphons?”

  Galahad stayed quiet for a beat. “I started hearing that song in my head when I was banished.” He finally muttered, which was more of an answer than Trystan had expected.

  Trystan was pleased that the knight was giving him some of his secrets.

  He also noted that Galahad looked fucking adorable in his coat. The weather was colder here, because of the altitude. Trystan had insisted that Galahad put on the jacket he’d bought him in Ted-ville, ignoring the man’s complaints that he “didn’t need a coat.” He was not going to let the knight freeze. Besides, the coat was “Enspelled with Protective Magic.” Trystan wasn’t sure what that meant, but he liked the sound of it. And he liked how the blue fabric showcased Galahad’s eyes.

  This area was warmer than the rest of the region, though, thanks to the heat from the fire cave. No snow stood on the ground. Instead, it was covered in thick, black powder. Trystan’s boots crunched against it. Mixed in with the dark soot, he could see small bits of white glinting.

  Teeth.

  Wonderful. They were standing in the middle of a crematorium of previous travelers. He glanced around, gauging the size of the wide swatch of black stretching out for hundreds of yards in every direction. A lot of previous travelers. Given the lack of tourism in this area, this creature must’ve been killing for a very long time to accumulate so many victims.

  “Communicating with my ancestors is a mark of honor.” He told Galahad absently, his eyes on the landscape. “They did not choose you lightly.”

  “The dead gryphons don’t exactly speak to me.” Galahad told him, like he was trying to make sense of it. “I can’t even understand your language. Sometimes I just… hear things.”

  “You hear the old gryphon speaking to you.” Trystan agreed, still studying the dusty mountains of dead. Not even a dragon could have done this much damage. Whatever had killed these beings, it was not a beast he’d fought before and he’d fought just about everything.

  The Pellinore Mountains were filled with many rare cre
atures, though. The magic was so strong that most explorers stayed away. This left all sorts of beasts to spawn and thrive in the cold isolation. Whatever this creature was, it was sure to be unknown and horrible. Hopefully, Galahad would let him kill the damn thing without extended chiding about how “monsters have souls, too.” Trystan could recite that particular lecture by heart, at this point.

  Galahad stopped on a large rock and turned to glance back at him. “Something wrong?” He asked, noticing Trystan’s distraction.

  “Not yet. I’m sure it will be, though.” Trystan looked around for some sign of the creature who’d slaughtered thousands, but he didn’t see any footprints. “Are you sure exploring this cave is of nine level importance, knight?”

  “Maybe even nine-and-a-half.”

  Trystan sighed. “Fine.” He’d deal with whatever this disaster was, once it actually befell them. He shook his head and returned to the topic at hand. “My ancestors only talk to those with great destinies. Do you understand this? It is not a Bad thing you hear them. It does not mean you are crazy or wrong. It means you are chosen.”

  Galahad didn’t answer.

  Tired of walking upon charred corpses, Trystan used his wings and flew upward, landing beside Galahad on the rocks. “They see something special in you. As I do.”

  “I’m not the ya’lah, if that’s what you mean. I’m not some ‘champion’ guy. I’m certain of that.” Galahad hesitated. “The word does sound sort of familiar, though. I keep trying to remember where I heard it.”

  “The dead gryphons probably called you by the title.”

  “No, they didn’t! Jesus. You just make up your mind about something and refuse to listen to anything else.”

  Trystan disregarded that nonsense. “Why are you scaling these rocks?” He asked instead, because it was a legitimate and pressing question. “I can fly you up the entire way.”

  Galahad snorted. “I’m too heavy for you to carry for long. Relax. I have this under control.” He jumped up to seize a handhold, using upper body strength to catch himself before he tumbled to his death.

  Trystan’s stomach jolted in terror at the casualness of the stunt. Terrified, he flew upward, keeping pace with Galahad, so he’d be able to catch the knight if he fell. “What about the magic carpet? We have one of those. You could use that to scale this cliff, yes?”

  The wingless were fragile in many ways. Without the power of flight, they could not protect themselves properly. If the knight lost his balance, he would be smashed beyond repair.

  Galahad glanced back at Trystan’s arms ready to steady him and his mouth curved. It looked like he wanted to say something, but then he changed his mind.

  Trystan didn’t like that. “I would hear whatever you wish to tell me, even if I will not be pleased to hear it.” He said and it was true.

  When Galahad shared his thoughts, it became less likely that he would slip back into his own mysterious world. Also, his words were often… interesting. Trystan could never predict what new idea the knight would come up with.

  “Well, I was just thinking about the gryphons…” He trailed off.

  “The dead ones or the living ones?”

  “Living ones.” Galahad got that speculative expression he always got just before he asked something that was so insane it just might be genius. “Did you ever wonder why gryphons don’t have emotions?”

  Trystan’s eyebrows shot up. “No.” He said honestly.

  “Who decided that they couldn’t feel things? Did they decide it?”

  Trystan floundered for a beat. “I don’t…”

  Galahad cut him off. “I doubt it, right? Because how would gryphons know what they didn’t feel unless someone came along and told them they didn’t feel it? It would be like someone telling me I couldn’t smell the number six. The idea that it even had a smell never even entered my mind, so it wasn’t like I knew that I was missing it, right? There’s no test to quantify emotions. Maybe gryphons do feel things, you just feel them differently and that’s okay.”

  “Except we don’t feel things.”

  “Are you sure about that? You feel them.”

  “Because, my grandfather was wingless. You know this.”

  “But, what if it’s bigger than that? I mean, I’m sure you feel more emotions and feel them deeper, because you inherited them from your grandfather. But what if a lot of gryphons feel… something?” Galahad tilted his head. “I keep remembering how Vallon got so pissed at me, back in Ayren’s village. I think he was feeling things that he had no framework to express.”

  Trystan blinked, trying to wrap his head around the idea. “Vallon tried to kill you. Yet, in your mind, he is now a tragic victim, filled with sensitive emotions?”

  “I didn’t say he was a victim. --Although, I think he kind of is.-- I said that he has a lot of emotions, which he has no idea how to channel, because he has no idea he even has them.”

  “Or he’s just an asshole.”

  Galahad flicked him off, somehow not losing his grip on the rock. “You, on the other hand, deal with your emotions by making snide remarks, yelling at me, and hovering a lot.”

  “It is your fault, I must yell and hover. You leap around on cliff sides and deliberately drive me crazy.”

  Galahad opened his mouth and then closed it, again.

  “Say what you are dying to say. It cannot be any stranger than gryphons with feelings.”

  “I just don’t want you to think I’m arrogant.”

  Trystan shrugged. “You should boast of your abilities more, not less.” He might scoff about the man’s lengthy list of accomplishments, but he saw no purpose in Galahad trying to hide any of his talents. It was a doomed effort. You might as well try to box up the sun and mail it from the sky. “Besides, we are past the point where we shield parts of ourselves, yes? Be fully Galahad with me. Always. This is what allies do.”

  Galahad smiled at him, his expression lightening. “Alright.” His hand lodged in a crevasse that Trystan hadn’t even noticed. “Well, it’s cute you’re worried about me, but I’ve got this. I’ve set records for free-climbing every mountain in Camelot. Twice. The second time, I wore a blindfold, as part of a charity event.” He swung sideways, his body twisting at an impossible angle. At the last instant, he released his hold, so he sailed through the air.

  Trystan had literally been tortured without flinching, but now he cringed in horror.

  The knight landed on a near vertical surface, his feet digging into the stone to stop himself from sliding into oblivion. “I vloged my fastest ascent and it broke the internet.” He went on with a shrug. “Seriously, it was out for three days.”

  “Millions of people were no doubt wagering on how quickly you would flatten yourself on the rocks below. That would take much bandwidth.”

  Galahad rolled his eyes. “I promise you, I’m not going to fall, okay?” Not even noticing the dizzying drop, he easily grabbed onto an outcropping to the left of his original position and kept going up. “You have to trust that your ally knows what he’s doing.”

  “Fine.” Trystan’s pulse was thundering in panic. Everything within him wanted to grab the man to safety. Galahad might be the best at all he tried, but it was still a nightmare to witness his death-defying feats firsthand. To distract himself, Trystan tried to refocus on the dead gryphons. “Uhh…” He swallowed hard. “Even if you refuse to see you are the ya’lah…”

  “I’m not the ya’lah.”

  Trystan kept talking, his eyes riveted on each millimeter of Galahad’s climb. “You must see that my ancestors would not be speaking to you at all, if they did not believe you have a great destiny. What are you planning to do that has them convinced you are on such a path?”

  “If they were talking to me, I guess it would be because of the art school I’m going to build, once I find the gold.”

  Trystan’s heart was in his throat, as the knight sprang to a new rock. Did gravity not work on him? “Gryphons don’t value gold. Whatever th
ey see in you, it isn’t that.”

  Galahad looked back at Trystan, hanging by one arm for no possible reason except he wanted to cause Trystan distress. “Shit.” He whispered. “You’re right. They wouldn’t consider gold worth very much, would they?”

  “Can you grasp that rock with both hands?” Trystan demanded, unable to fully concentrate on anything except Galahad’s precarious grip. “I trust that you know what you’re doing, but you are still in my care.”

  Galahad twisted his body so he was holding the rock more securely, but his eyes never left Trystan’s. “What would they consider a treasure?” He asked, with a strange expression.

  “A future for our people.” Nothing else mattered, now. “The gryphon cannot have children, even through surrogates or adoption. Without young, who will tell our stories?”

  The knight would want young to raise. That thought flickered through Trystan’s head, causing him to frown. Galahad loved children. He would wish for a mate who could provide them and Trystan couldn’t.

  P’don.

  “Midas’ mother adopted him.” Galahad argued. “You told me that. And she was a gryphon.”

  “That was early in the curse’s power. It has been spreading and getting stronger. At first, some children would be born. Some could be adopted. But those rarities have been over for many years.” Most of the last of that group had died at Legion. “Not Igraine’s death, nor Uther’s, has lifted the spell. The gryphons will be gone soon.”

  Galahad considered that with a concerned expression. “I don’t think I can do anything to fix that curse, Trys.” He heaved himself up onto a small flat area beneath the cavern. “I would if I could, but I’ve got zero insight into magic and curses.”

  “I know.” He landed on the knight’s new perch. “But there is some reason the dead gryphons have chosen you. You have no idea what it might be?”