The Gryphon's Lair

by Kelley Armstrong

  “May we pass?” I ask. “May we leave you to your pool?”

  I step sideways toward the forest. The ceffyl-dwr’s gaze follows me, but he doesn’t move. I take two more side steps while Malric stands his ground. I’m almost at the forest, and then the ceffyl-dwr prances toward me.

  Malric lunges. His jaws snap an inch from the ceffyl-dwr’s leg, and I know he’s missed on purpose. It’s a warning snap. The ceffyl-dwr snaps back, and they glower at each another, the stallion lowering his head to look right into Malric’s eyes.

  The ceffyl-dwr prances my way again. Malric growls. I don’t need to tell him not to attack. The stallion’s movements are light, no battle charge, just a pretty two-step inching closer to me.

  Then the ceffyl-dwr rears, pawing the air and shaking his mane. His front hooves hit the ground and his back ones fly up as he bucks. I have no idea what he’s doing until he lands and somehow, in that playful, twisting, bucking, seemingly innocuous movement, he’s gotten himself right in front of me, and Malric lets out a snarl of pure rage at himself for missing the trick. The warg doesn’t attack, though. He doesn’t dare. The ceffyl-dwr is so close that his breath tickles my hair.

  “Princess…” Dain says. “I have a shot lined up.”

  “Good,” I say. “But please don’t take it until I ask you to. No matter what he does.”

  Dain grumbles, and Malric echoes it. The ceffyl-dwr inhales, his nostrils rounding. Then he blows a breath, smelling of fish, the hot blast of it rippling through my hair. As he sniffs me, I carefully unsheathe my sword.

  One last sniff before his mouth opens, just a little. He knows what I look like, what I sound like, and what I smell like. Now he’s wondering what I’d taste like.

  “No,” I say in the firmest voice I can muster.

  He closes his mouth, tilts his head, considers again. Those jaws open, just enough for me to see his sharp white teeth. “No,” I say again.

  He blinks and pulls back with a whinny. Then his head darts forward, and he nips my shoulder so I fast I don’t have time to do anything but yank away. It’s a quick nip, testing me, and as he withdraws, I swing my sword. He sees it and prances back, but I catch him in the front shoulder with the broadside. I only mean to whack him in warning, but the obsidian edge is too sharp and it nicks his skin, blood welling. He prances away with an affronted whinny.

  I lift my hand to my shoulder. When I press my fingers in, I wince, but his teeth didn’t penetrate the wet leather of my tunic.

  “Now you know what I taste like,” I say, lifting my sword. “Obsidian and steel.”

  He continues his dance for a few moments, bucking and rearing and prancing, hooves striking the ground. Very clearly not pleased that this nasty human hurt him when all he wanted to do was see whether she was edible. His cut is shallow, though, and it certainly doesn’t impede him, and after a lick at the slice, he stops and eyes me again.

  “We would like to pass now,” I say. “Please allow us to pass.”

  He tosses his head and whinnies. Then he charges.

  “Princess!” Dain shouts.

  “Hold!” I say.

  The ceffyl-dwr charges until he’s a few feet away from me. Then he stops short, clods of dirt flying. He stands there, head down, watching me.

  “No,” I say. “I’m not going to run away. I’m not going to attack you either. Now stand down, ceffyl-dwr, and allow us to pass.”

  Another head toss.

  “Rowan,” Alianor calls. “As entertaining as this is, it’s taking time we don’t have if we’re going to reach the gryphon aerie tonight.”

  “We can’t approach it at nightfall anyway,” I say. “If going there alone is our plan at all. I haven’t decided. As for this guy…”

  “Let Rowan handle him,” Dain says. “He’s young, and he’s curious, but he’s a stallion and a beast, and he’s testing her before he decides to let us—”

  The ceffyl-dwr’s head swivels toward Dain so fast, we all jump. The young stallion trumpets and charges, and I race after him, my sword raised, Malric lunging, Dain diving out of the way. Only the ceffyl-dwr isn’t running at Dain. He’s running at something behind him, something coming down the river.

  The ceffyl-dwr stallion.

  The older stallion leaps from the river and lands on the bank, his head down as he paws the ground. The young ceffyl-dwr gallops into his path and rears. The older one does the same, the two of them on their back legs, facing off. The young one strikes first, and that’s a mistake. He’s young and inexperienced, and he wants the first blow, and the stallion expects that.

  The bigger ceffyl-dwr dodges and bites the young one’s shoulder. The young one twists and kicks with his hind legs. One makes contact and the older stallion falls back with a screech—too much of a screech for what was only a glancing blow.

  The stallion is in rough shape. I sliced him deep in the front quarter, and he has other cuts from his fight with the mare. Still, he’s much bigger and stronger than the younger ceffyl-dwr.

  “Rowan?” Alianor says. “We need to go while they’re distracted.”

  I nod but don’t answer, my gaze fixed on the battling stallions.

  Dain steps up beside me and lowers his voice. “The young one isn’t defending us. He’s defending his territory and himself.”

  They’re right. Yet the thought of abandoning the young stallion to his fate…

  He’ll be fine. With the older one’s injuries, it’s too even a match. The older ceffyl-dwr will realize that and retreat. He risks his herd if he loses this fight.

  Still…

  You were trying to escape the young ceffyl-dwr yourself. He’s still a threat. You can’t endanger anyone else by interfering.

  “Retreat,” I say, my gaze on the ceffyl-dwrs.

  When Alianor and Dain hesitate, I wave and begin walking backward toward the forest edge. Once we reach it, I ask Dain if I may use his bow.

  “For what?” he asks.

  I don’t answer, and he shakes his head. I’m about to ask again when he takes the weapon from his shoulder. He doesn’t hand it to me, though. He waves for us to get farther into the forest.

  “They’ll have trouble following us in there,” he says. “It’s too thick.”

  He lines up the shot.

  “I can—” I begin.

  “No, actually, you can’t, princess. You’ll need more practice first.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you—”

  “You didn’t.”

  He waves me back, and I take a few more steps, with Malric and Jacko both herding me. I don’t go far, though. I wait while Dain shoots two arrows, in quick succession. One hits the older stallion in the shoulder, the other strikes his flank. Neither is anywhere near fatal, but they add to the older ceffyl-dwr’s collection of wounds, giving him all the more reason to deliver a quick thrashing to the youngster and then retreat with his dignity intact.

  Dain’s right, too, that I could not have made those shots—not without serious risk of hitting the younger stallion instead.

  We don’t wait to see how the stallion reacts. That was the danger of doing this—the risk that he’d see who struck him and charge. Dain fires the arrows and beats a hasty retreat to where we wait. Then we all hurry deep into the thick forest, where the ceffyl-dwrs cannot follow.

  When we’re far enough in—and the stallions give no sign of coming after us—Alianor says, “So what’s the plan?”

  I glance at Tiera, walking behind Malric.

  I don’t know the right choice here. If I say we should press on, is it because that’s genuinely the right move? Or because I want to prove I can do this myself?

  If I’m worried about looping back and encountering the ceffyl-dwrs again, is that really any greater a danger than encountering unknown monsters if we carry on without Wilmot and Kaylein? Are we making thi
ngs worse for them by forcing them to pursue us?

  But I’m the royal monster hunter—if I wait for rescue when my goal is nearby, that’s something Heward and Branwyne can use against me.

  She was a quarter-day’s hike from an aerie, yet she huddled in the forest like a frightened child. Waited so her guard and her trainer could take the risks in her stead. How will she ever survive the trials alone in the mountains?

  “I say we press forward,” Alianor says.

  When I glance at Dain, he seems startled, as if he didn’t expect me to seek his opinion. I don’t outright ask, though. To ask is to put the responsibility on him. Yet I can wait to see whether he’ll give me an opinion, and after a moment’s contemplation, he does.

  “Wilmot would want us to wait, but that means spending more time in dangerous woods,” he says. “Finding him wouldn’t be a simple matter of heading back in the right direction. He can’t track us either, not when we came by river. He might find the remains of our raft and our sign but…” He shrugs. “He might not. Going forward is definitely dangerous. I’m not sure it’s more dangerous than waiting, though.”

  “I am afraid if I stay behind, Heward will say it proves I’m not ready to wield the ebony sword.”

  “And if you push on, he’ll use that, too, as proof you’re impetuous and reckless.”

  “Like my father,” I murmur, too low for them to hear.

  “The truth, Rowan,” Alianor says, “is that Heward and his supporters will find a way to use anything against you. If you’re going to live worrying how Heward can fault you for it, you’ll end up doing nothing at all…and he’ll fault you for that.”

  Dain gives a slow nod, as if reluctant to agree with Alianor, but here he must, because she is indeed correct.

  “What you must consider instead,” she continues, “is how your people will view your choice. Will they want their royal monster hunter waiting for the adults…or completing the task on her own?”

  Dain glares at her. “No, that is not what she must consider. Ever. It’s like a boxer asking the crowd what he should do next. Whatever is most entertaining…and most dangerous. If she lives her life like that, she won’t live it for very long.”

  He glances at me. “You need to do what you feel is right, Rowan. Whichever way you can argue was correct when you are questioned.”

  I nod. “Push on, then. If both paths seem to hold equal danger, I should complete my task.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Back at the riverbank, Dain and Alianor had left a sign for Wilmot to say we were fine and headed inland. Now we write another one, presuming Wilmot can find our trail from the first. I use Dain’s dagger to write Gone to aerie on a tree while Alianor hangs a strip of her bright-yellow tunic from the lowest branch and Dain tramples the undergrowth, hoping it will mark a place Wilmot will find.

  Then we hike out.

  We stop before twilight makes it too dark to see our way. We could have gone farther, but we found a likely shelter: a cave we can all fit inside, with an entrance small enough to defend.

  Despite my pessimism earlier, we do have a few supplies—items in our belts and pockets that survived the river dunking. Fire sticks in a waterproof container, for one thing. That lets us start a fire and begin to dry our clothing. As we do that, Dain announces his intention to hunt.

  I want to join him, but he refuses, and so I ask Malric to accompany him, and the warg seems to understand and, more surprisingly, agrees. The two of them head off in search of dinner.

  As soon as they’re out of sight, Alianor says, “You really thought I refused to come along?” And it takes me a moment to realize what she means. So much has happened since last night that I’ve almost forgotten she hasn’t been with us from the start.

  When I shrug, she eyes me, her expression hidden in half-shadow under the campfire glow. After a moment, she says, “If I’d warned you, then you couldn’t honestly tell your queen mother that you knew nothing of my plan. I didn’t want to put you into a position where you’d get into trouble.”

  “Thank you.” I scratch Jacko around his antlers, which makes his leg twitch with delight.

  Silence stretches for a few minutes. Then she says, “Earlier, I joked about what my father expects me to do at the castle. I wanted to be the first to say it. My dad says that rumors fly faster than the swiftest arrow, and they’re twice as deadly, and the higher your position, the faster and sharper they get. In the castle? That’s as high as it goes. That must be hard for you.”

  I must look confused, because she smiles and says, “Or maybe for you, it’s just normal. You may have enemies, but you have plenty of allies, too. In the castle, all I have are enemies.”

  She hurries on before I can protest. “I just mean that I’m an outsider from Clan Bellamy, so they’re looking for my angle. If I’m with you, I must be ingratiating myself with the princess. If I’m with Rhydd, I must be hoping to win myself a crown. They’re going to say it, so I say it first. Get it out in the open so we can talk about it.”

  She crosses and uncrosses her legs, as if trying to get comfortable. Then she looks at me. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  I’m quiet, petting Tiera as the gryphon settles against my side. Rhydd didn’t want me mentioning this to Alianor, but she already knows what people are saying, so I say, “I did wonder, when you refused my invitation to join the expedition. It felt like…” I shrug. “Rejection, I guess. Like maybe I thought we were better friends than we actually are.”

  I run my hands over Tiera’s furry flank, and she leans into me so I can reach an itchy spot. “It’s mostly just been me and Rhydd. There are other kids we play with but…”

  Another shrug. “It’s hard, like you said. I appreciate that you brought this up. You’re right. That makes it easier. You’ll want to speak to Rhydd, too.” I add, carefully, “He might already know, but…”

  She grins. “He does. We spoke after you left. He thinks it’s hilarious. He has agreed to marry me if I promise to handle all the really boring political dinners and meetings in his place. I have refused. So…” She shrugs. “No crown for me.”

  As we stretch out on the grass, she says, “Speaking of boys, have you noticed how cute Kethan is?”

  “Heward’s son?” I sputter.

  “He’s actually really nice.”

  “You want to marry Kethan?”

  “Ugh, no. I don’t want to marry anyone. I’m just saying he’s cute.” She purses her lips. “I wonder if he’d be a good kisser.”

  “Eww.” I shudder.

  “You’d say that about anyone, Rowan. Give it another year, and then we’ll talk.”

  “Not if it’s about kissing the guy whose dad wants to destroy my family.”

  “Oooh, star-crossed lovers! That is so romantic.”

  “Uh, no. No, it is not. Especially when he’s eighteen. That’s gross.”

  “Maybe not Kethan, then. How about…”

  She begins listing other boys from the castle, and I close my eyes, resting as my mind fills with more pleasant thoughts, like what Dain will bring us back for dinner.

  * * *

  Dain and Malric catch a few birds, and we dine on those as well as some nuts I gathered close to our camp. Then it’s bedtime.

  We agree to a guard schedule. Dain will go first, and then Alianor, with me taking the final shift until morning. I suppose Malric could have a turn, but it being impossible for us to obtain his agreement, he gets to spend the night in undisturbed slumber, the lucky beast.

  I fall asleep faster than I expect. I’m cuddled up with Tiera, Jacko at my stomach, and I drift off into a deep and dreamless sleep. I wake briefly when Dain and Alianor change guard shifts, and when I fall asleep after that, it’s not nearly as deep or as dreamless.

  I keep seeing Jacko in the water, thrashing, his eyes rolling my way, begging me
to save him. At first, the dream reflects reality—I’m fighting with all my might to get to him. But then it changes, and I’m just standing on the raft, watching. I wake gasping from that one, and he wakes, too, his antlers knocking my face as I hold him tight and he cuddles in.

  Next, I tumble into a dream where I’m at the aerie, only it’s empty, with no sign of gryphons having been there in years. I tie Tiera by her leg shackle and walk away as she screeches in terror and confusion. I startle awake from that, and she’s right there, against me, and I cuddle closer, shivering. When the beat of her heart rocks me to sleep, I only fall into a fresh nightmare, one where there are gryphons in the aerie, and when we drop off Tiera, they attack her…and I walk away, leaving her screaming for me.

  I bolt upright, and I sit there, rubbing my arms as I shiver, despite the warm night and the even warmer bodies pressed against mine. I don’t try to lie down again. There’s no hope of sleep. So I creep to the entrance and tell Alianor I’ll take over early.

  She squints up at the moon, calculating the time.

  “It’s barely halfway through my shift,” she says.

  “It’s fine. I can’t sleep.”

  She peers at me. “Bad dreams?”

  I shrug.

  “About the ceffyl-dwrs?”

  I give a noncommittal nod.

  “While I’m sorry for your nightmares, I’m also a little bit glad you aren’t as fearless as you seem.”

  “Oh, believe me, I’m not fearless. I’m just really good at faking it.”

  “Nah, even with nightmares, you’re still frighteningly fearless, Rowan.” She pulls me into an unexpected hug. “I won’t insist on finishing my shift, but get me up early so I can take over and let you rest.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  I settle in just outside the cave entrance, where a low fire burns. Jacko takes up position on my lap. When Tiera realizes I’m not returning to the cave, she comes out, too. She tries to settle at my back, wrapping herself around me like a soft chair. I kneel beside her instead, moving Jacko so I can hug her, and when I do sit again, she lays her head on my lap, and Jacko snuggles in by her stomach.